She's Not There
by M. Willow
Summary: A mysterious woman with murder on her mind enters Starsky’s life.
1. Chapter 1

Jazzy

She's Not There

**By M. Willow**

Special thanks to MWH for inspiration.

**Story synopsis: A mysterious woman with murder on her mind enters Starsky's life. **

**Chapter One**

_Well no one told me about her the way she lied  
Well no one told me about her how many people cried  
But it's too late to say you're sorry  
How would I know why should I care  
Please don't bother tryin' to find her  
She's not there._

_Well let me tell you 'bout the way she looked  
The way she'd act and the colour of her hair  
Her voice was soft and cool  
Her eyes were clear and bright  
But she's not there_

_**The Zombie's 1960s hit song.**_

Cat eyes. It was the first thought that came to his mind when he saw the woman. She was demur, classically beautiful, the raven-black hair an exotic contrast to her porcelain skin. She had the most amazing eyes he'd ever seen. A man could live to be a thousand and never see anything like them. So light, so transparent, they seemed hardly to exist, the color a light shade of green, almost golden. Every man in the room was mesmerized. Right now a band of thieves could raid Parker Center and not one man would lift a finger to stop them. .

She was graceful, her movements slow, deliberate. She was elegant, her clothes designer chic. Hutch imagined she had once been a debutante. Had traveled the world, sipping wine on the Riviera, dancing under the stars in Rome, her every whim attended. She was mysterious, the remnant of a dream lost in the dawn of morning. Women like that existed only in the imagination of men. They did not appear at Parker Center. And they did not terrify a man like David Starsky.

Starsky sat, his face white, hands gliding across the typewriter. He would not look at her. And the questions he asked were in a monotone voice, almost as if the life had been taken out of each word.

Hutch watched from the sideline. He had been sent there by his partner with just one look, but he was ready for action. Waiting. Observing his partner's every move. The adrenalin that surged through him was usually reserved for those who appeared more dangerous than this slight, demure woman. Nevertheless, he was adept at reading the dark-haired detective, an ability both men shared, and one which had saved their lives countless times. He relied on it now.

Hutch refilled his mug with strong black coffee. It was hot, too hot to drink, but he swallowed scarcely noticing the burn, his eyes trained on his partner and the woman.

Starsky was typing, taking her report, listening to her account of having her purse snatched. He did this as he fell apart, hiding it brilliantly from all except Hutch.

Cold eyes. Deadly eyes. Someone had just walked across Hutch's grave and she was contemptuously sitting in the room with him now. He was a turkey the day before Thanksgiving. Her eyes spoke of challenge, and hatred, and revenge, but why would a woman he'd never met hate him? And he was certain they had never met because you didn't forget women who looked like that.

Susan Shepard was her name. She was a wide-eyed young woman in her early twenties who claimed to have left a sheltered existence for life in the big city after her aunt passed away. Said aunt had left her thirty-thousand dollars of which she had tucked into a purse and took off for greener pastures. Susan had decided to deposit her money in a bank once she reached town. She had therefore tucked all thirty thousand dollars in her purse. Upon reaching her destination, she decided to put the purse on top of her luggage. She had made one purse snatcher a happy man.

Hutch listened as she continued with her story, recalling how she'd arrived at Parker Center and headed straight for the brunet who nearly went into shock when he saw her.

She was a good actress, moving from near hysteria, to calm, flirtatious coquette in record time. Starsky was a good actor. He was obviously afraid yet flirting at the same time. They were both a mystery to Hutch. One he needed to solve, but it wasn't going to be easy.

Two months ago, Hutch finally hit rock bottom. He'd been on his way there for nearly a year. But this time, he'd thrown caution to the wind, deciding the best way to truly have a horrible life was to sleep with the woman Starsky loved. Kira had been all fire and plenty of ice, but the fire is what interested Hutch. She made him feel good. She was lemonade on a hot summer day, quenching a need in him. At first he lied to himself: Starsky doesn't really love her, we've shared women before, sometimes at the same time. She really loves me. When he finally gave in to his desires, he knew there was no going back. Soon nothing else mattered, not the case they were working on, not the guilt he felt each time they made love. He was enjoying the delicious taste of sin. It alone drove him to crazy acts of defiance. In the end, the most important relationship in his life was nearly destroyed.

Starsky walked in on them, both mused, still smelling of sex. The brunet had lost control, throwing punches, each one stabbing the essence of his soul. He'd taken it because he deserved it. But Starsky was a forgiving man and the friendship continued, slightly altered, minus Kira. This new relationship had barriers, at least in Hutch's mind. It didn't matter that Starsky had said nothing had changed. It had changed. Hutch was uncomfortable around the women his partner dated. In his mind, there was always the possibility of crossing the line. A careless thought. A bad day. A return to the deep abyss of depression could trigger a reprehensible behavior in him. He was soiled goods. He couldn't be trusted. It didn't matter that his partner disagreed. In short, Susan couldn't have picked a worse time to appear.

Hutch strained his ears, listening to the conversation. Susan had lowered her voice and blushed profusely. With her batting lashes and curly-black hair that remained free in spite of the tight bun, she reminded him of a bad silent film actress. She was playing the damsel-in-distress to the hilt, lending just the right amount of distress in her body language and voice. And Hutch knew it was a matter of time before his partner came to the rescue. Fear wouldn't stop him. He knew that about the man.

"I've nowhere to go," she said, her voice trembling. "My aunt only left me a little money. Now it's all gone. All because I was stupid. I wanted to wait and put the money in a bank here. Now what will I do?"

Starsky sat looking at her. He had somehow managed to control his fear, now he openly regarded her.

"There must be someone?"

"No. My sister is dead and so are my parents. All I had was auntie."

The story just didn't add up. She was well cared for, sheltered, wore expensive dresses. How could everything she own be contained in one purse. The answer was forthcoming.

"My aunt had a lot of money, so I never wanted for anything. But when she died, nearly all her money had been lost to bad investments. I received only thirty thousand dollars. That's all that was left."

And Hutch wanted to shout: why would you take it out in bills. Why not travelers checks, or bonds, or credit cards, or any damn thing that would keep you from coming here. Instead he took another sip of coffee.

Starsky was trembling. Susan was touching his arm and the man was actually trembling. All the while, the golden-eyed woman pretended she hadn't noticed. She was dabbing at her eyes with the other hand, her face grim. She was practically sobbing, her body literally shaking.

"What shall I do?" And she waited for the answer.

"You must have someone," Starsky said again. He said it as if he could somehow conjure up a relative.

"No one. I'm all alone."

And then the tears were falling, and before Hutch knew what happened, his partner was offering the girl his apartment. It seemed impossible that he would find himself standing at the damn coffee pot, watching the train wreck in progress, utterly useless. He was sipping coffee while Rome burned.

Susan was looking at him now, triumph in the golden depths of her eyes. He tucked his tail, filled the mug with fresh coffee and prepared to join them. "Would you like something, Miss Shepard?" he said, once he reached the desk.

Susan declined then spoke, "Your partner was kind enough to offer his apartment. But I must say no, detective Starsky. It hardly seems proper."

Starsky raised his hand in a mock Boy Scout salute. "I pledge to be absolute gentlemen. Word of honor. You can even have my room."

Starsky was all smiles, clearly flirting, but Hutch could still see terror in his eyes. The flirtation was done without conviction, almost mechanical, as if it were something to be expected.

Hutch handed his coffee to his partner who took a sip and handed it back. Susan's face had gone instantly cold, but it was so brief that Hutch wondered if he hadn't imagine it. Now she was smiling, accepting his partner's offer and asking both of them to call her Susan. All the while, Hutch sat there, completely useless, listening to his partner prattle on about sleeping arrangements and calling them both by their first names, now that they were to be roommates. Hutch had to put a stop to it.

Hutch reached into his pocket and pulled out three crisp one hundred dollar bills. He handed them to Susan. Starsky was reviewing the report so he didn't see the hatred that filled her eyes. When the brunet looked up, she resumed the countenance of the sweet, innocent girl.

"I wouldn't think of it, detective Hutchinson. It simply wouldn't be right."

It didn't matter that he told her it was okay and that his partner had a look of relief on his face. In the end, Susan wouldn't take the money. Round one and he was the obvious loser. Now if he could only find out what the game was about.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

She's Not There

**By M. Willow**

**Chapter Two**

Susan kept a close eye on her surroundings. Part one of her plan had worked: locate her former lover and convince him to let her move in with him. Nothing like a damsel-in-distress number to grab a man's attention. Especially this man. Ten years had made him into a walking Adonis. His blue eyes seemed bluer. His chiseled body perfect. It was all she could do to control herself. But getting him into her bed would have to wait.

He'd given her money to shop for the evening's meal. Now all she had to do was trigger his memory. She would start by making his favorite dish. Later they would make love.

Memories flooded over her. She was standing in the produce aisle, thinking of the man she loved, needing his touch, his warmth. It had been over ten years, but she remembered everything as if the years hadn't passed. He had been hurting then, his touch communicating pain and despair. He was a tender, passionate lover. A man given to deep feelings. When they made love it was with abandonment, a closing out of the rules and convictions of society. They were both young and sex was an adventure.

"_You keep me sane," he once told her. "I will never be able to tell you how much you mean to me."_

And she had dissolved into tears because it was the first time anyone had needed her.

Now, she had a chance to reclaim what time had taken away. And only one man stood in her way: Kenneth Hutchinson.

She'd known about his partner, of course. The blond was one of the victims of the plague and the reason David had made his plea on television. Had it not been for him, she may never have found David. She was, in a way, grateful. She was really sorry he had to die, but the men were too close. She had to be the only person in David's life. It had been that way in the past, and she was determined that it would be that way again. Ken's elimination was already in motion.

Susan saw a woman in the produce aisle. She was tall with black hair and a slim figure. They locked eyes for a moment and then the woman moved on.

--

Hutch was frustrated. In the two hours since Susan Shepard had entered their lives, Starsky had stared listlessly out the window, refusing to talk. Hutch had tried everything, but the brunet had shut himself off, ignoring his questions. Starsky could be stubborn when he wanted to.

Right now, he was staring out the window, almost as if he were willing the girl to return. His fear was palpable. Hutch watched him closely while considering his options. He needed to stay close, but in the past few months, Hutch had avoided any contact with the women in his partner's life, which meant it would seem intrusive to suddenly want to hang out.

He could just drop by. Pretend to need help on one of their cases, but Starsky would easily see through that. So that left him nowhere.

Hutch ran a trembling hand through his fine blond hair. She was a Trojan horse, a way to get into his partner's life, Hutch was reasonably certain of that. Of course, he could easily just be hypersensitive. What man wouldn't be after Kira?

Kira, the woman Starsky thought he loved. Only she had a mission. A mission to break a relationship that seemed unbreakable. He supposed it was a need for power that drove her to do it. But maybe he was seeing Kira in every woman. Maybe Susan really was just an innocent victim and he was misreading the looks she gave him.

Hutch joined Starsky at the window, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Penny for your thoughts."

Starsky shrugged. "I wish it were that simple, Blondie."

"This have anything to do with Susan?"

Starsky looked at him, "Not that I can see."

And Susan breezed into the room.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

She's Not There

**By M. Willow**

**Chapter Three**

The blue skies of morning gave way to dark clouds. Thunder sounded almost continuously, competing with high winds that felled power lines, tore shingles off houses, and threw trees dangerously into the paths of unfortunate drivers still on the road. The lightening was almost beautiful in its intensity, filling the darkness with a spectacular light show. It was truly a dark and stormy night, and as Starsky sat across the table from a dead woman, the world seemed to have taken on a surreal quality.

Jenny Alexander had died over ten years ago. It had been his fault. The guilt he still carried transcended time. It was always there, slowly eating away at him. He had never discussed it with anyone, not even Hutch. The shame, the pain was too deep to talk about and nothing could bring her back.

Perhaps it was what made him a cop. He needed to make up for what he'd failed to do. Right now, if he could go back in time, there would have been a different outcome. He wouldn't have just sat there on the ground, listening to her screams.

But she was dead now. Imagining her still alive would only mean he was losing his mind. Yes, Susan bore an uncanny resemblance to Jenny, but she was nearly ten years younger. A different woman.

Jenny had died in a blazing inferno. Had she lived, she would have been horribly disfigured and nothing could have restored her beauty. That sort of thing happened in soap operas, victims, returning from the dead, their skin unmarred by fire. It was impossible in real life. He'd seen the pictures. Saw the horrific scars. Gazed into her cold, dead eyes, the only thing left of her.

He looked at Susan, hanging onto the way she spoke, the way she looked at him. Hanging onto the differences, seeing the similarities. She was talking about her aunt, the conversation turning suddenly serious.

"She hated me because I couldn't be her," she said.

Starsky crinkled his brow, he had been distracted, losing track of the conversation. They had just finished an incredible meal and were sitting on the sofa in his apartment, soft music and candlelight making her impossibly beautiful. He was embarrassed that he hadn't a clue as to what she was talking about, but Susan seemed to realize it.

"Her daughter. My cousin. She died a year before my parent's death. Anyhow, when I was ten, my parents died in a car accident. There was no one but my aunt, so I moved in with her. She was sort of eccentric. Had cut herself off from everybody since her daughter died of a drug overdose. She saw me as her second chance."

Starsky saw the pain flicker across Susan's face. He knew the answer before he even asked. "She hurt you?"

Susan shook her head. "Not in the physical sense. She used words as her weapon of choice. And isolation. No television. No radio. No friends. Just the people she hired to mold me into something I could never be"

"I'm sorry."

"Funny thing is I only met Lillah in pictures. It was sort of like seeing an actress you like on the silver screen. I had no idea what she was really like. I just knew she was so beautiful. I couldn't imagine her dead. She was vibrant, so alive. She wasn't plain like me, but we both had the same weird eyes."

"Don't sell yourself short. You're very beautiful."

Starsky had to remind himself that Susan had no other family. She'd told him that on their way home. It was just the girl and her aunt. And they lived in a suburb of Chicago. Had never been anywhere else.

Jenny was from Boston. No family anywhere else. And she certainly would have mentioned a look-a-like cousin. Still, Starsky had questioned Susan relentlessly: did your aunt have a brother? The answer was only my father.

How about a sister? No. And Susan's mother had been an only child. But everybody had someone who looked like them. Starsky could still recall the two guys who impersonated he and his partner a few years ago.

"Are you listening to me, David?" Susan asked, bringing his attention back.

"Yeah, 'course I am," he lied.

Susan blushed and Starsky was again reminded of the differences.

Jenny was a seductress. In bed, they were insatiable, the passion threatening to consume them. Starsky remembered long hours of making love, his body desperate for release. She would let her long red hair fall freely down her back and speak to him in low, seductive tones. And she would look at him with those incredible green-golden eyes and it was all he could do to keep his hands off her. She had literally brought him back to life

They could have been sisters, but Susan was wide-eyed innocence. A woman not quite aware of her beauty. She wore her hair in a conservative bun; nevertheless, the springy curls broke free, surrounding her delicate features in a mass of curls.

Both women had startling green eyes, a color almost golden. Jenny had once complained that they made her look sort of wild, like something about to attack, and Starsky had laughed it off. Of course at that time he was deeply in love. Saw only the best in her. A year later he would have agreed.

Susan snuggled against him, her silky hair tickling his chin, her body molded against his as if it belonged there. The mood was romantic with soft music and candlelight and totally distracting. Soon he found the tension melting, and a new sensation taking over. He was dangerously close to kissing her. But, Susan was just a nice girl who resembled a woman he once loved. She had momentarily erased the guilt, brought Jenny back to life, but seducing her wouldn't be right. If he let his feeling go, he would be no better than her aunt who wanted to make the girl into her dead daughter. Susan's life had been horrific because of it. He wouldn't add to that horror by pursuing her now.

He pushed himself away. Stood up. "Going to get coffee. Want some?"

Susan shook her head, capturing him with her eyes, taking his breath away. In the orange glow of the candlelight, they had somehow been transformed, the green eyes now nearly golden. Jenny's eyes. He quickly made his way to the kitchen and prepared the bitterest coffee he could imagine. When he returned, he'd manage to convince his body that he didn't want Susan. At least he hoped so.

He sat down just a little further away from her. He put a calmness he didn't feel in his voice. "Ever tried to leave your aunt? You know, when it got real bad?"

"Only once. I know. I'm twenty-five years old, but I didn't know how. I'm weak. There was a whole world out there I was afraid to face. I had spent over half of my life locked away. Everything done for me. Tutors, servants, at my beck and call. You have no idea how dependent you can become. I lived in isolation, a world created by my aunt."

"She locked you up often?" Starsky's voice was incredulous.

"Yes. She wanted a second chance. She believed that Lillah had been tainted by the world. That if she'd been a better mother. Had kept her away from outside influences, Lillah would have never tried drugs and wouldn't have died of an overdose."

Susan fell silent. The wind was pushing against the window, the howl competing with the silence of the room. Then she spoke, "I allowed her to imprison me for years. When I was eighteen, I realized it wasn't normal to live that way, but I just couldn't leave. Maybe, in a way, I felt safe there. Maybe it was the money. Either way, I was still a prisoner till she died. In many ways I'm still a prisoner." Susan dropped her head.

"No. You were a victim, Susan." Starsky moved forward, cupping her chin till she looked up at him. "It wasn't your fault."

Susan looked at him with such sad eyes that he nearly forgot it wasn't Jenny.

"I had a friend when I was sixteen," she said as Starsky dropped his hand. "He had been sent to teach me how to play the violin."

Susan's eyes took on a misty look. "I remember sitting by the fire in the parlor, watching him for hours. He was beautiful. I thought he could rescue me. Take care of me. I suppose that's all I ever wanted."

"You loved him?" His voice was low.

"Yes. At least I thought it was love. We made plans to run away. He wanted to marry me. I was way too young and he was nearly twenty-five, but somehow I convinced myself that love would find a way."

Susan dropped her eyes and Starsky clutched her hand, sensing what was to come.

"On the night we were to leave, he…he…never showed up. I sat there, waiting, waiting with my beautiful white dress on. The dress we were to be married in, but he never came. Looking back I could see that it was impossible for us. It was illegal for us to marry. And maybe he was just a little perverted even, but at sixteen I was too naive to know that. Later my aunt revealed that she had paid him off. It still hurts to this day."

Tears were falling down Susan's face and Starsky wiped them away with his hand.

"He never wanted me. My aunt told me no man ever would."

"That's not true, Susan. You're a beautiful, desirable woman. Any man would be lucky to have you."

Starsky could see she didn't believe him. "Wasn't there anyone you could have gone to for help?"

"You have to know that you can do that first. I'm twenty-five years old and have never lived."

Starsky felt anger rise. Anger at the aunt and all those who saw what was happening, but did nothing to stop it. He pushed the soft curls from her face. Looked into her sad eyes. He spoke without thinking, "I won't ever let anything happen to you, Susan. I promise."

Even as Starsky said the words he couldn't figure out why. But perhaps there was a part of him that wanted to keep a promise to another woman he knew so long ago. Perhaps Susan was his second chance.

"Can I trust you, David? Can I trust that you will never hurt me?"

"You're safe with me."

They stared into each other's eyes, and Starsky felt like he was being swept along by a wave, incapable of breaking free, just riding the crest, hoping to find himself on dry land.

Susan broke the connection. "Maybe I should be turning in. I mean…it's getting late."

"Yeah, maybe we should go to bed." He corrected himself. "I mean. You go to my bed and. No…I don't mean my bed. I mean my bed, but I won't go to it…I…"

Susan laughed then kissed him on the cheek. "You're sweet." She stood. "Goodnight, David." She headed for the bedroom, turning just as she reached it. "And thanks for rescuing me."

--

Susan had been so close. He wanted her, but was too much of a gentleman to take her then and there. She shouldn't have been so proper. A slut could easily get him in bed, but then she wanted so much more from him then a roll in the hay. Now she would have to wait for another opportunity and a way to discreetly throw herself at him. Not an easy feat considering her current persona.

On the floor, next to the bed, sat three suitcases and a night bag. Susan reached over and took the largest of the three, sitting it on the bed. She reached into the hem of her skirt and retrieved a small golden key. She used it to open the luggage. Several blouses and a few nightgowns lay on top. She pushed those aside until she was staring at the bare bottom. Feeling around the sides, she pressed down and was rewarded with a clicking sound. The bottom then opened to reveal several leather notebooks and two manila envelopes. Beneath them lay three-hundred-thousand in cash. The other two suitcases carried even more cash. It would be a long time before she had to touch her Swiss bank account, she reasoned.

Susan took out one of the manila envelopes titled Kenneth Hutchinson. She flipped through it quickly, refreshing her memory about her nemesis life. Her contact had been thorough, reporting on everything from his move to Bay City to the intimate details of his life.

Susan put away the folder, briefly glancing at the one labeled David Starsky. She removed one of the leather notebooks, putting it to her chest for just a second, before returning it to the suitcase.

Next she picked up a small overnight bag and opened it. Inside was her secret weapon—a small gold vial of her favorite perfume. She opened the top, taking a sniff of the delicious flower aroma. It made her dizzy for an instant, so she lay down on the bed, clutching the covers to her, remembering how they use to be.

It was a chilly day in New York and he was a man literally teetering on the edge. He was standing on the pier, eyes staring at the rapidly moving water. He didn't seem to care that one wrong move could send him spiraling to a horrible death.

Susan had come to this deserted part of the river to be alone and was disappointed to find him there. But then she was touched by his sadness, the way he stood against the wind, hair blowing in an array of springy curls that reminded her of her own soft curls.

He wore a thin jacket, too thin for the cooling temperatures, but it displayed a man who'd suffered. His body was extremely thin, but he was ruggedly handsome, the chocolate brown curls lending him an air of vulnerability. She knew from his age and demeanor that he was most likely a Vietnam vet and that he had probably been a POW. She'd seen many over the years: the walking dead. Men who had been taken prisoner and somehow survived, eventually returning to a world that didn't know what to do with them.

And so she had stood protectively by, waiting to save him should he throw himself into the river. Eventually she had come closer, until she was standing next to him, feeling the cold breeze sweep over her. They did not speak, both satisfied to remain in the pain of their own world. And then he had simply turned, fixed her with sad ocean-blue eyes, and walked away. He never said a word.

Over the next two weeks, she returned to the pier and waited for him in vain, but three weeks would pass before that happened.

On that warm spring day, she'd been looking at the river when he suddenly appeared next to her. He apologized for his earlier rudeness and asked for a date. It was a beginning. They were inseparable after that, sharing hopes and dreams, walking along moonlit beaches, slowly, inexplicably falling in love.

He told her that he'd returned home without his family's knowledge. That he needed to heal before seeing them. He told her about being a POW and some of the things they had done to him. He told her how his father had died when he was just a boy and how his mother had sent him away. He told her how much it had hurt him to be separated from his mother so soon after his father's death.

In turn, Susan told him about her life and the isolation she felt as an only child. She'd come from money, every whim, every desire catered to, but what she really wanted was love. Later, he promised never to leave her.

Together they were sad souls, each suffering, somehow finding peace in each other.

But David Starsky had things he didn't talk about. He never told her about his life in California. It was a closed chapter. She never pushed him on it either. It was enough that he was there now. It never occurred to her that he would leave.

Susan felt the sting behind her eye and forced her mind back to the present. Things had ended for them tragically, but they had another chance. She was back!

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**She's Not There**

**By M. Willow**

**Chapter Four**

Days and nights followed with Starsky fighting his desire for Susan. He was slowly falling in love with the past, incapable of doing anything about it. He realized it was a pattern that had started after Terry died. He wanted to be in love. Have a wife, maybe a couple of children and a home with a white picket fence. That need had led him to make bad choices in relationships.

First there was Rosey. She was a gangster's daughter, an impossible relationship for a dedicated cop. And then Kira followed— a far worse choice. Kira had nearly cost him the most important relationship in his life. He was still paying for that mistake.

Hutch couldn't forgive himself. Starsky had, but it didn't matter to his stubborn blond partner. For the last four months, Hutch avoided any interaction whenever Starsky was involved with someone. The excuses were endless: I have a headache; I have to work on this case. I'm tired, how about another time. All in all, it ended up with the fact that Hutch didn't want to spend time anywhere near the women in Starsky's life. It didn't matter if the relationships were casual. It was as though he didn't trust himself. Thought he might have another lapse, yet Starsky trusted him implicitly.

Starsky needed Hutch. His feelings for Susan were confusing. Was he falling in love with the lovely brunet or was he still in love with Jenny? In short, he needed his partner's insight to sort through the mess, but Starsky was keeping a secret. A secret about his past and the woman who'd died so long ago. If Hutch found out about Jenny, he would never look at him in the same way again.

Starsky sighed. It was midnight and he was lying on the sofa, unable to sleep. It had been a pattern since Susan had decided to parade around the house in skimpy outfits. First it had been pajamas—pajamas that clung to every curve. The pink nightgown followed. If she stood in just the right place in his apartment, Starsky could see every curve and a little more. The darn thing was practically transparent.

And tonight there had been the yellow baby doll pajamas. The thing was short with matching panties in the same color. They were watching an old Bela Lugosi movie and she had managed to sit very close to him, long legs perched on the coffee table. Starsky had spent the evening battling a serious hard-on as he tried his best to concentrate on the blood sucking vampire on the screen.

She wore perfume too, a serious coincidence since it had been Jenny's signature scent. Still anyone could go to the store and buy a bottle of perfume and the girl had no way of knowing what it was doing to him. Damn, it was hard to keep a promise, he thought, remembering his pledge to be a perfect gentleman. Right now he was so turned on that if a sheet had touched him, he would have lost all control.

Starsky considered going to visit Hutch. He could crash on his partner's sofa and forget the gorgeous woman sleeping in his bed. But he'd tried that a few nights ago. Had sat on his partner's sofa, babbling incoherently, with Hutch trying to figure out what was going on with him. He didn't need a repeat of that scene. Not that it mattered.

Starsky was pretty sure Hutch had launched an investigation into Susan. He'd pretty much acted like a basket case the first time he saw the girl, and Hutch was too good at reading him not to notice. He figured the big blond hadn't found anything or he would be calling him in on the carpet, spilling every notorious deed committed by the gorgeous brunette. No, Hutch had searched in vain which meant Susan had checked out okay. As for Starsky, he knew the girl was completely innocent. Of course he could easily be considered biased. It didn't take a head shrink to tell him that his symptoms were classic guilt association. He felt responsible for Jenny's death and a woman who looked just like her shows up. He was therefore transferring his feelings to her. The head shrinks probably even had a name for it, like transference something or other. But it didn't matter. Susan made him feel good. And lying on the sofa at twelve midnight, he felt too damn good.

"Get a grip," he said quietly, propping himself up on his arms. "Or you gonna be chargin' in there, begging that poor girl for somethin' you don't have a right to."

Starsky was well aware of the emotional rollercoaster the girl's first lover took her on. It wouldn't be right to take her through it again. He wanted her because she looked like Jenny. Of course the black hair was different and the women had slightly different features, but those green-yellow eyes were nearly the same. And Starsky was betting her lips tasted the same too. And the body…he caught himself, getting up from the sofa quickly and charging into the kitchen. Once there, he turned on the faucet, and drenched his face with cold water, thinking how he'd be better off with a cold shower.

He was looking out the window, enjoying the moonlit night when he heard a scratching sound, like a needle being placed on a record. He heard someone enter the kitchen, smelled the perfume and knew it was Susan. What followed, however, was totally unexpected. It was a familiar song. Their song. The haunting strands of the old Flamingo's 1950s song floating across time, taking him back through the years. Back to Jenny.

He swayed, holding on to the sink for support, listening, remembering.

"_My love must be a kind of blind love  
I can't see anyone but you._

_Are the stars out tonight?  
I don't know if it's cloudy or bright  
I Only Have Eyes For You, Dear._

_The moon maybe high  
but I can't see a thing in the sky,  
'Cause I Only Have Eyes For You…._

They'd kissed for hours to that song, their lovemaking becoming urgent. Now, Starsky turned to see a vision. She stood in the moonlight, soft hair cascading down her back. She'd changed out of the baby-doll pajamas and now wore a long, sweeping white gown. The gown caressed her shoulders, emphasizing her long, swan-like neck. He hadn't realized how beautiful she was.

Susan started to walk toward him and the scent of her perfume nearly took his breath away. It was light, sensuous, Jenny's scent. He reminded himself that this woman was actually Susan. It didn't matter that she moved like Jenny. That she wore her dark hair the way Jenny wore hers. He'd spent the last ten years of his life wanting her. Needing to erase his guilt. This was simply a case of the mind's desperate need for resolution. In Susan, he had found Jenny. And she was alive and well and he hadn't caused her death.

He closed his eyes, needing for the charade to continue. As Susan neared, Starsky pictured Jenny, her long red hair falling down her back, eyes sparkling like jewels. He remembered the taste of her lips, the way she moved beneath him when they made love. He remembered her laugh, the way she looked at him. And then he heard Jenny speak.

"I want you to make love to me."

He didn't stop her when she kissed him, melded her body against his. He responded to the kiss, deepening it with desperation. And then clothes were falling to the floor. He pushed her back against the kitchen table, letting his hands wander down satin skin. He felt her touch, looked into golden eyes and saw resolution. And as they made love, he thought only of Jenny.

--

Hutch was pacing the floor of his bedroom. He'd spent days in front of Starsky's apartment, days of searching for information on Jenny. He'd come home because he realized that staring up at his partner's apartment had done nothing but put dark circles under his eyes Now he waited for the telephone to ring and doubt had settled in as his nightly companion. Was the girl an innocent? Had he spent so many years looking at the underside of life that he saw monsters wherever he looked?

He shuddered and sank down on the bed. He and Starsky had a psychic connection. It was inexplicable, but there nonetheless. If he had a bad feeling regarding the curly-haired detective, then it was real.

"God, Starsk, what have you gotten yourself into and how can I stop _it_ from happening?"

Now the _it_ was the problem. An attractive woman was in his partner's apartment, probably his bed by now. He was in danger, but Hutch had yet to uncover what that danger was. If Kira hadn't happened, he could have told Starsky that the woman was poison. That he had a gut feeling and that she was up to no good. He could tell him and Starsky would listen. Then both detectives would work together to discover her motivations. But that had been before his betrayal. Before the time he'd destroyed the most important relationship in his life. Now he was walking on thin ice and one slip could send him spiraling. He couldn't just walk in there and tell Starsky something about Susan without proof. He couldn't just walk in there and say, "hey, your girl was looking at me like a tiger at snack time. Get rid of her." Right now he had nothing but suspicion and that wasn't good enough.

Starsky would wonder if he were up to his old tricks. That maybe, just maybe, his only motivation in the matter was getting Susan in his bed. If Starsky believed something like that, Hutch wouldn't be given another chance. He would be out of his partner's life forever. A scary thought, made even more so, since Susan would have free reign.

"Damn," he said, slamming his hand down on the bedside table. "What does she have on you? What would make a man who's faced down the worse criminals, turn into a quivering mass of terror just by the appearance of one, green-eyed woman?

Hutch picked up the phone and started to dial. He placed the phone back on the cradle before it could ring. He sat there, staring at the wall as if it had answers. Then he heard a sound coming from the living room. He'd taken to putting his gun in the nightstand at night, so he reached over and picked it up and waited. Soon a familiar feeling spread over him and he put the gun back on the nightstand and padded into the living room.

Starsky was sitting on the sofa, his eyes staring straight ahead. He seemed distracted, unaware that Hutch entered the room. Hutch fought rising panic as he slid onto the sofa.

"Hey, buddy, what brings you here at this hour? Thought you would be with Susan." Hutch hoped his voice sounded normal.

"I was. Thought I would come here. Didn't mean to wake you."

"Wasn't sleeping." Hutch placed his hand on Starsky's shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just needed to get out of the house for a while. That's's all. Nothin' wrong."

Starsky's voice was shaking.

"Something going on with you and Susan?"

Starsky didn't look at him. "I don't know. Somethin' happened between us, somethin' I wasn't ready for. So I left."

Hutch wondered if they'd slept together. If so, Hutch had even more reason to worry. Starsky wouldn't just leave a woman alone after making love to her. "Want to talk about it, buddy?"

"I don't know how to talk about it, Hutch. I just don't know."

Starsky dropped his head into his hands, his body hunched forward. "Let's just drop it. Okay."

"Sometimes it's better to talk about it, Starsk. Maybe we can figure something out."

"Not this time."

"Since when has that ever been true?"

Starsky didn't say anything, just looked up at him as if he had been stung. And Hutch knew what had put that look in his eyes. He'd betrayed his partner. The trust the brunet once had in him was gone, or severely altered.

Hutch splayed his hand. "Look. I know what I did was wrong. I know that it will take time. But…"

"Listen, Hutch, this has nothin' to do with that. I forgave you, remember? Now, let's just drop it."

"This thing is eating you up. How can I just drop it?"

"Easy. Pretend I'm not here and go back to bed."

"But…."

"No, "buts." I ain't ready to talk about this." Starsky frowned. "I'm just tired. Been workin' a lot trying to solve those robberies. Just want to get some sleep."

They'd both been working on a robbery case. The man had been breaking into homes over the past two months, hauling away anything he deemed valuable. The case held a special significance to them because most of the robberies had taken place in Starsky's neighborhood. Both men therefore took it personal, putting in more hours than they probably should. But if Starsky was tired, it had more to do with Susan than the robberies.

"We both know this has nothing to do with the robberies. It has to do with Susan Shepard."

"She's a nice girl, Hutch. This whole things about me. Don't blame her."

"I do blame her because you've been a basket case since she walked into Parker Center. From the looks of you, you haven't been sleeping well. Talk to me. Tell me what's going on in that head of yours."

"I don't know."

"You do know."

"I don't know. I don't know, Hutch. I'll tell you if I knew."

They were both shouting, his partner's face marred with frustration. Hutch lowered his voice. "You're falling over the edge. Think I can just sit here and not do anything?"

Starsky's hands were shaking. He stood up, looking down at Hutch. "Think I'll go home. This was a bad idea."

But Hutch stood, grabbing his arm. They stared at each other for a second, and then Hutch spoke, "Stay. I'll back off. Just don't go back there." He knew his partner could hear the fear in his voice.

Starsky sighed, pain and something else on his chiseled features. "She's a nice girl. What happened was my fault. She's vulnerable, Hutch. Don't put this off on her."

"What happened tonight?"

But his partner didn't speak, just sat down heavily, head dropping into his hands. His body rocked slightly and Hutch wondered if he were actually crying. He sat down next to him, sliding his arm around his partner's shoulders.

Starsky slid closer to him, allowing the contact. Then he looked up and Hutch could see that he had been crying. "I can't tell you, Hutch. I'm ashamed."

"But not with me, buddy. You can tell me anything." And as Hutch said the words, he prayed that it was still true.

"Give me time. I just need time." Starsky sounded so desperate. "But right now I just need to rest. And I need…I need to know you're here with me. Okay? I need to feel that I'm not alone? I don't…I don't…" Then his voice cracked.

"You're never going to be alone. I'll always be there for you."

Starsky had turned his face to look out the window. The moon had gone behind some clouds so the room was almost dark except for one lone lamp at the end of the sofa.

"Thanks, Hutch." And with that, his partner settled himself on the sofa, his body curled in a ball. Hutch stood up and went to the closet. He came back with a spread and pulled it over his already sleeping partner.

"Night, buddy," he murmured once the dark-haired detective was covered. But the only answered he received was Starsky's soft snores.

--

The woman moved slowly through the crowds, past street vendors, sleazy pubs, and the many restaurants that dotted the landscape of what had become known as Skid Row. She was an unremarkable woman, blending into the grayness of the area. She had dish-water blond hair that hung in greasy clumps around her head and a thread-bare dress which fit snuggly around a plump figure. Over this she wore a coat that was equally tattered. She carried a large shopping bag, a prerequisite for any woman who found herself living in that area of town.

It was a hot day, the noonday sun battering the city with scorching temperatures. The worn out shoes the woman wore scarcely shielded her feet from the hot pavement, so she walked with a sort of shuffling gate, her eyes straight ahead, never making eye contact with anyone for more than a second.

Skid row, at this hour, was filled with desperate souls who ambled down the street clutching bottles of liqueur, or lay sleeping it off in alleys. Most men hardly noticed her. The few who did only wanted liqueur and hoped she was willing to share. Even these men wouldn't seek sex from someone who looked the way she did now which was quite contrary to the previous night.

The sex had been spectacular. She'd had to hold back. Pretend to be the innocent persona David needed. It had been difficult but necessary. They had made love till they both fell into an exhausted sleep, but Susan had awakened to find herself alone, a note pined to the mirror.

"Going in early," it said. And it was signed David.

It was still dark outside. Not yet five o'clock. There was only one place he would have gone at that hour. It made her angry. Made her aware that she needed to have Ken taken care of as soon as possible. And so she had risen with the sole intent of bringing an end to her rival. By noon she had made her contact, collected the money from the bottom of her suitcase, and headed out.

Getting the clothes had been simple, especially after the bag lady had stopped fighting and died. She'd then taken the smelly clothes and shoes, put on a dark-blond wig, heavy with the oil she brought from the corner store, and became Millie.

The Millie persona opened the door to a greasy spoon restaurant and ambled in. The place reeked of unwashed bodies and old cooking oil. It was a dark, desolate place with peeling paint and wooden tables and chairs. There were a few men who sat hunched over dark coffee, no doubt laced with alcohol. These men ignored her as she made her way to the back of the restaurant. There, seated was a man clothed completely in black. The man looked up as she neared. This man was just as concerned about concealing his identity as she, so his clothes were shabby and just as smelly as hers. She was pretty sure he hadn't resorted to murder to get his ensemble. He would have considered it a classless act.

She looked into his cold grey eyes. He wore a wool hat that covered his hair which could have been any color. The lines on his face put him at about fifty, so she figured his hair would be grey, but then, lines could be faked. He smiled as she approached.

"Well, well, quite a disguise, old girl. I approve." He said this showing full yellow teeth He spoke with a cultured British accent, belaying his somewhat humble surroundings. Susan had no idea what he actually looked like. He was a hit man and that was all that mattered.

She heaved her bulk into the booth and sat the bag between them.

"Names Millie. Now, cut the crap, Johnny," she said. She enjoyed pulling herself into a role. Millie had not been the name of the bag lady, but it would do for the character she was playing. .

Johnny on the other hand, enjoyed using just one name. He was simply Johnny to all who hired him. Had been for years. It was as much his calling card as the green eyes were hers. If you needed someone taken care of, you called Johnny.

She spoke quickly, "I got a job for ya, Johnny boy, so let's deal."

"Not like the other time, I hope. It really was quite bloody."

"What you complainin' about. Ya got paid didn't ya?" Her voice was raspy like a woman who'd smoked too many cigarettes and drank too many bottles of whisky.

"Yeah, and they still haven't found the bodies. Most distressful. I hate having dead bodies floating about unclaimed. I'd rather discover my mistakes poste haste."

Johnny smiled broadly, then reached into the bag and pulled out a thick vanilla envelope. Inside, Susan had put five-hundred thousand dollars. She had balked at the price. The last murder had only cost 50,000 dollars and that had been for two, but Johnny had pointed out the risk of killing two cops, especially if he were caught.

"You'll get the rest later," she said. "And there better be no mistakes. I ain't payin' for mistakes."

He pushed the envelope into the pocket of his tattered coat, holding his hand there just a fraction longer, as if he could count the money through the envelope. Fixing her with serious eyes, he spoke, "It'll be done. Surprise you're not doing this one yourself, Millie."

The thought had crossed her mind, but she wanted her hands clean on this one. She wanted innocence on her face when the big blond reached the end. The other one she could care less. Johnny may as well do both jobs so she hired him. Still, Johnny was becoming too curious.

"Get it right, Johnny boy. I don't have time for mistakes." But even as she said it, she knew the man never made mistakes. Ken was as good as dead and she poised to become the supportive girlfriend. She could picture it now, David praising her, saying she was the woman who saved his life.

"I don't make mistakes, old girl. Just make sure you do nothing to lead the cops to me. I've never killed a cop."

"Ya ain't got no reason to worry. I know what I'm doin'."

"Yeah, but this time it's personal, isn't it? And personal means you can fuck up. And I don't need a fuck up."

Johnny's voice had become hard, but she kept the fear out of her voice when she spoke, "How ya know it's personal? You ain't been snooping, has ya? "

She didn't wait for an answer, continuing in the same craggy voice. "Now get this straight. What I do is my business. I strongly suggest you remember that." She held his gaze, the challenge clear. There were rules in their relationship. They went way back in the killing game, but two rules remained: they always met in disguise and they never got in each other's business. They were professionals in a nasty business and breaking the rules meant death.

He nodded his head, the smile deadly. "Just wanted to make sure."

"Ya ain't got nothing to worry about." She fixed him with an equally deadly smile.

Johnny pulled out a cigarette, but he didn't light it. "You know, one day I would like to know what you look like, dear. I bet you're quite a looker with those green eyes."

She dropped the accent. "To see my face is to see death, Johnny. And we wouldn't want that, would we?" She grinned, enjoying his discomfort. She had a reputation in the business and he was well aware of it. If she wanted him dead, he wouldn't see midnight.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

She's Not There

She's Not There

**By M. Willow**

**Chapter Five**

He shouldn't have done it. And for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why he'd done it. Making love to Susan had been a mistake. She was vulnerable, and he had been thinking with the wrong head. But the sex had been spectacular. He could still taste her, remembering every moment of their lovemaking.

Susan was an inexperienced lover which made him feel like a world class heel. He'd clearly crossed the line. Taken advantage of an innocent girl. Yes, she'd asked him to make love to her, but he didn't have to go along with it. He should have said no. Realized that she was just reaching out to the first person who had shown her some kindness. But, no, he had allowed himself to sink into a fantasy world. A world where Jenny was still alive.

He liked Susan, but he had slept with Jenny last night. In fact, the whole time they were making love, he kept remembering the beautiful redhead. Susan was nothing like her in bed. She was kind and giving, but inexperienced. And then, when it was over, she had apologized for not knowing what to do, admiting that she'd been with only one man in her life. He couldn't go any lower, or so he thought. But then, that too had been a lie, because while Susan slept, he felt like someone was walking over his grave and had become so panicked that he ran out of the apartment, taking only a few minutes to scrawl a note with shaking hands.

It had all started as Susan slept. They were both nude, curled against each other in bed. He'd decided to get up and take a quick bathroom break. It was then that he really took a look at her. She was younger than Jenny would have been by at least ten years, but that made it even more eerie since she looked so much like her. It was just the dark hair that was different. Jenny had red hair, but it was just as curly as Susan's.

For what seemed like hours, he sat staring at her, feeling the growing dread that crept over him. He'd gotten up and kneeled next to the bed, staring at the upturned nose, the way her face relaxed in deep sleep. One time she'd moaned as if they were still locked in the throes of passion and he realized it hadn't been Susan's voice at all. It sounded almost identical to Jenny's voice. That's when he bolted. He'd driven through the streets like a madman, his pulse beating frantically, a fear so profound that it was nearly blinding. Somehow he found himself in front of Hutch's door. He'd been afraid to go there. Afraid his partner would see how spooked he was. But he had nowhere else to go.

He was sorry that he couldn't tell Hutch the truth, but he had no choice. He was the cause of a woman's death. It had made him into the man he was: the cop who always sought what was right. But he had once been a monster.

Now, he sat at his desk pretending everything was alright. Meanwhile, a shattered girl was probably home crying, wondering how he could make love to her one moment, then leave as if she were no more than a hired whore the next.

He looked at his partner. Hutch had been watching surretipuosly, pretending to read everytime he looked his way. The blond hadn't asked him anything since last night, but he was waiting.

"Starsk, you need anything?"

"No, Hutch. I'm fine."

But he wasn't fine. And Hutch knew it. Knew it because they were soul bonded. And what happened to one, happened to the other.

The blond frowned, dropping his head for an instant, then speaking low, "I'm still here, partner. Not going anywhere."

Starsky swallowed hard. He didn't want to break down in the middle of the squad room, but felt hot tears threatening. He was worse off then he could ever imagine.

"Just never leave, okay." He tried to smile. It didn't quite work.

Just then the door opened. What Starsky saw made his blood run cold.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

She's Not There

**By M. Willow**

**Chapter Six**

Hutch looked up when the beautiful woman walked through the door. Just as quickly he heard a sharp intake of breath and looked at his partner. Starsky was pale, his body literally shaking, his eyes following the woman as she walked toward them.

She wore her hair free, flowing down her back in a mass of curls. Her features were delicate, the eyes golden. Hutch couldn't believe it was Susan Shepard.

Starsky jumped up from his chair and just stood there, eyes wide with terror.

Susan was carrying a picnic basket which she sat on the desk. "I thought we could have a picnic," she said, smiling broadly. "So I decided to stop by and pick you up." She fingered her hair. "How do you like my new hairdo by the way?" I had it done this morning. Always wanted to be a redhead."

Hutch moved around the desk, coming to stand next to Starsky. The brunet was holding on to the edge of the desk, his knuckles white. He didn't say anything, just stared.

Susan leaned across the desk, smiling seductively. "You do like redheads, don't you? I would be so upset if I did all of this for nothing."

"Hutch!" It was barely a whisper, but enough to get Hutch moving.

Dobey was coming out of his office. Hutch grabbed the brunet's arm and headed in that direction. He was nearly there when Starsky literally went limp. It was all Hutch could do to keep him from falling to the floor, but he grabbed the brunet around the waist and continued on his way.

By now every detective in the room was headed in their direction, but there was only one person that concerned Hutch. He could literally feel her presence; smell her perfume as she followed them into the office.

Hutch managed to get Starsky inside and seated in a chair. By now, he was coming around, looking at him with confused eyes. Susan stood in back of the brunet so he couldn't see her. But Hutch did. He saw the expression on her face, felt her hatred reaching across at him. Dobey was standing next to the water cooler so he couldn't see any of this.

"What's wrong with him? Can I help?" Susan asked.

And Hutch could have sworn her voice was different. But he didn't have time. Didn't have time to figure out what the hell she was up to. Didn't have time to find out why she was in his partner's life.

"Get out!" he said, his voice low, dangerous. "Get out!" he said even louder.

It should have sent ice through her veins. Hutch knew that. He'd used that tone to scare the toughest criminal, but Susan just stood there, eyes narrowed. He didn't sense any fear in her. It was an internal battle of wills, two predators facing each other down. And then she turned and left the room.

Hutch took a deep breath, steadying himself. He felt like he had just looked into the eyes of the devil. "Cap'n, think I can be alone with Starsky for a minute?

Dobey looked uncertain. "You sure, son? He looks pretty…pretty shaken up." Dobey's voice was low, full of concern.

"I'm sure. I'll talk to him."

"You do that." Dobey headed for the door. "And tell me if you need anything. Got that?"

Hutch nodded and Dobey walked out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

Hutch crouched down in front of his partner. Starsky had slumped over, head in his hands. "You okay, Starsky?"

"Don't leave," was all Starsky managed to say.

"Not going anywhere, buddy" Hutch patted the distraught man on his back.

Starsky's body still shook, but he was breathing normally. Finally he spoke, "Sorry, Hutch. Don't know what happened back there."

"Don't…" Hutch began, knowing his partner was trying to avoid telling him what was going on.

"Would tell ya if I understood."

"Let me in. Tell me what's going on with you."

They were using their shorthand way of speaking. It drove people nuts when they did it since no one else could understand them. Frankly, they had spent a few months in the early stages of their career trying to understand it themselves. Eventually, they just accepted the unusual connection. Now they could speak without words or half sentences like they were doing now.

"Not ready," Starsky said.

"Since when have you needed to be ready to talk to me?"

Starsky looked at him. "'M ashamed."

"No secrets. Remember. Not between us."

"Ain't never gonna be any. But I need time on this one. I need to sort it out."

"I want Susan out of your apartment."

The brunet tensed. "No. She can't…leave. I need her, Hutch."

"What is it about her? Why do you need her?"

Starsky shook his head. Hutch was still kneeling in front of him so he could see the emotions play across his partner's face. "Tell me."

"Not her fault. I took advantage….I shouldn't have….I shouldn't have done it. It's why she came in here lookin' like that. I fucked up, ya get it."

Hutch rubbed the line between his eyes. "No. I don't get it. You need to tell me so I can help."

Starsky rose from his chair so quickly Hutch almost fell over.

"I took advantage of her. Treated her like dirt…that's the kind of man I am. That's the kind of man you have as a partner."

Hutch grabbed Starsky's shoulders. "You know that's not true. I don't know what's going on between you and Susan, but I do know the kind of man you are."

Starsky leveled his eyes on him. "You think so? You really think you know me?"

"Of course I do."

"Well you don't know shit." And Starsky bolted for the door, slamming it after him.

--

Starsky was lost in the past. After he had left Parker Center on the day Susan became a redhead, he'd decided to tell her the truth. She deserved to know about Jenny.

Over soft music and a picnic lunch, Starsky told Susan about the woman she resembled. She listened as he told her how much he loved Jenny and how much she reminded him of her. He told her that Jenny was dead, but didn't explain how she died. At the end, he was surprised when Susan broke down in tears and cried like she had known the woman who haunted his life. She told him that it didn't matter that she reminded him of Jenny and that she was willing to be whomever he needed. Starsky felt confused, yet oddly relieved.

Dobey had given him a few days off after his breakdown at the station, so Starsky asked the captain if he could stay at his cabin and took Susan there. It wasn't his favorite place in the world, but he needed the sense of peace the cabin provided and he needed to be alone with Susan.

It was as if he'd entered another world. A world where nothing mattered but the feel of her skin, her soft green-gold eyes, and the hours spent making love to her. He was teetering dangerously close to insanity and a part of him wanted to seek help, but he would take one look at her and all thoughts would desert him. She took away his guilt, brought Jenny back to life. And so the great lie continued.

After a few days he returned to work a new man. He was no longer haunted by the past. No longer heard Jenny's screams as he slept. He wanted to let Hutch know he was finally free. That he was happy now, but it would have been a lie, because nightly he returned home to a woman who didn't exist. Susan didn't stop him when he accidentally called her Jenny. She relished in the role, somehow taking on the dead woman's mannerisms and voice. There was something sick about the whole thing.

Meanwhile, his partner called nightly. For the most part, Starsky had cut him out of his life. They saw each other only at work and occasionally for dinner. But he didn't invite him home. He needed to keep that part of his life separate. It wasn't that he didn't trust his partner. It was just that if Hutch saw, he would insist that he get help. He wouldn't just sit there and watch him descend into madness without a fight.

But sometimes at night, when he managed to pull himself from their bed, he would have a moment of clarity. Know that what he was doing was wrong. He would pick up the phone with the intentions of calling Hutch. Then he would picture his friend's face; imagine the rejection, the shock. He would remember a time when he didn't have Hutch in his life. A time when Kira had destroyed everything that was important to him, and he would hang up the phone and sit in the dark and cry.

He felt so alone.

But one night, when he had reached the lowest depths of despair, he made his way to the window and stared out at an old battered car. It was late and the moon shone on the unmistakable presence of his partner. The blond lay with his head against the window, but Starsky knew his partner was only partially asleep. He figured the blond spent many nights there, always watching, worried about him. He was never alone.

Yet, clarity was fleeting. When the doors were closed, the lights dimmed, when he held Susan in his arms, listened to her sweet voice, he became lost in sensation. She was Jenny and he no longer a monster.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

She's Not There

**By M. Willow**

**Chapter Seven**

The weeks passed, each blending together, bringing Susan more and more into Starsky's life. Today Hutch had insisted on a meeting with Susan. He'd done it after a disturbing phone call from him last night.

Hutch still recalled the way his friend sounded, the fear in his voice. Hutch had decided to spend one night in his bed. He'd been sleeping outside his partner's apartment for weeks, and needed to get some real rest or he would have become a liability on the streets.

The phone rang at three o'clock in the morning. The first ring and the blond immediately thought of Starsky. He answered quickly, recalling a time years ago when his friend had called needing help because he had been poisoned. A feeling of dread swept over him before he even heard his partner's voice.

"Starsk?" he had said. But the only answer he got was the labored breathing of his partner.

"Starsk. Are you okay? Talk to me, buddy."

"M' scared, Hutch. I don't…I don't know how to handle this. Need you."

"Starsk, I'm coming over."

"No. You can't. Just stay on the line with me."

"Starsk, get her out of your house. Get her out right now."

"Can't."

"Then come over here."

"I can't do that to her again. You saw what happened the last time. She looks like her. She looks like her."

"What are you talking about? Who does she look like?"

"I can't tell you. You'll never look at me the same way again."

"You know better than that. I love you. There's nothing you can say or do that's going to change that."

And then his partner broke down and sobbed. Hutch had sat listening, wanting to go over there in spite of the brunet's wishes. In the end, he had settled for the meeting at the Pitts.

Hutch parked the car and headed into the establishment that had become a home away from home. On Friday nights, the Pitts was usually noisy and crowded. Tonight was no exception. Hutch eyed the barkeeper the moment he entered. Huggy was behind the counter, preparing a tray of beers, but he stopped working the moment he spotted the blond.

Hutch came over and sprawled long legs on the barstool.

"What it is?" Huggy said smiling. The tall, ebony skinned man was pretending to be in a good mood, but he was just as worried about Starsky as Hutch was.

"Here to meet Starsky and his girl."

Huggy's face suddenly went serious. He pushed the tray over to the side, then came around and sat next to him.

"You find out anything?" Hutch asked.

He has asked Huggy to do a little checking for him.

"Nada. Girl don't exist."

Hutch's rubbed the line between his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Just what I said. Don't exist. Got no history. Nothing. There ain't a person on the planet that I can't get something on."

"You checked with your contacts in Chicago?"

"Checked in Chicago and nearly every other place on the planet, my blond brother. Girl don't exist."

Starsky had said the girl was from a suburb of Chicago. He hadn't been sure of the town, but since the aunt once had money, Hutch had reasonably assumed that finding the woman who'd recently passed would be relatively easy, especially with his own blue-blood contacts. But no one knew Susan Shepard.

Susan wasn't in the DMV either. Hutch had had Minnie check for him. Nothing. That left the mug books. Hutch had spent hours going over the books, but not one picture matched the girl. In short, all he had were suspicions, and he couldn't go to Starsky with just that.

Hutch nodded his head. "I know. I had Minnie run her through the computer. No drivers' license. No school records. Nothing."

"She's a phony. You told Starsk?"

Hutch shook his head. "I wanted to get something concrete first. He's pretty hung up on her."

"Can see that. He's got it bad. You here to get better acquainted?"

"Yeah, I told him I wanted to spend time with them. It's time I meet her head on."

"I think it's time you talk to your other half."

"Can't."

"Why not? Just cause you slept with his girl? Don't mean he won't believe you."

Hutch grabbed one of the beers from the tray and took a swig. "In my mind it does. If I mess up now, that's it. I can't expect him to keep forgiving me."

Hutch swerved around until he was facing the crowd. He could see his partner kissing Susan. "Need a favor. I need to get some prints. Think you can get that glass?"

"It's what I'm here for."

Hutch took his beer and stood. "I better get over there."

"And not a moment too soon. Those two have been making out since they got here. Gonna get the place closed down for lewd and lascivious behavior. I got a reputation to uphold."

Huggy went back behind the counter and drew another beer. He put it on the tray and hurried across the room. Hutch took a deep breath and walked slowly over to his partner and Susan.

--

"'Bout time you showed up," Starsky said as Hutch slid into the booth. Starsky was sitting across from him, his arm slung casually around Susan's shoulders. The girl was snuggled close, making it clear that she had staked her territory. She acknowledged Hutch with a tight smile.

"Sorry I'm late. Had to catch up on a few things."

Susan leaned in and gave his partner a passionate kiss. Hutch cleared his throat and the two broke apart.

"Sorry," Starsky said, then took a swig from his glass. He was having beer, but Susan had wine in front of her.

"I'm glad you could come. I want us to be friends," Susan said, all sweetness, batting long lashes. How could anyone so beautiful be so inherently evil, he wondered.

Starsky clasped her hand and pulled her closer to him.

Hutch did his best to hide his horror at seeing his friend with Susan. "Yeah," he said. "It would be nice."

Susan smiled broadly, then her eyes narrowed, becoming cold. Of course, Starsky couldn't see any of this. He was sitting right next to her, but couldn't see the expression in her eyes.

An hour later, and Hutch was growing tired of the cat and mouse game. He was pretty sure Susan was up to something, but as yet, nothing had materialized. Just small talk. Again he found himself wondering if he had been wrong. Seeing things that weren't there. The answer came swiftly.

"David, do you think they have that song we like on the juke box."

Starsky shook his head. "Doubtful. Huggy tends toward current music. Can't picture him playin' anything from the 50's."

She turned her face toward the brunet, her lips closed in a pout. "Oh, David, you think you could go see? It makes me happy just to hear it." Then she smiled at Hutch. "We have this song we really like."

Starsky blushed as he got up. "Be right back."

Susan's face went cold the minute he left the table. She was a hunter and Hutch the prey. Still, he tried to be civil. "Nice place, isn't it?"

"You think so."

Hutch noticed her voice was a little different, deeper and the accent had changed too. Definitely not Midwest. Eastern maybe.

He nodded his head, taking a quick glimpse in Starsky's direction. The brunet was standing at the juke box. Realizing he might be there for awhile, Hutch again attempted conversation. "We like it. Have you met Huggy?"

Susan took a sip of wine. "Does it matter?" She sat forward, golden eyes hard. "We don't have a lot of time. And I don't intend to spend it talking about that silly bartender, so let's cut the crap." She smiled, showing perfect white teeth. "You don't like me, do you?"

"Not really," he answered truthfully. He made sure his voice was just as cold as hers.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't trust you. You're up to something and I'm going to stop you, lady." His voice was low and dangerous, but she didn't shrink back

"I want David. And you're in the way. I intend to remedy that situation." She spoke quickly, her voice ice.

"That a threat?"

She sipped her wine, sitting back in her seat. "Your words, detective Hutchinson. "I believe it's illegal to threaten cops."

Hutch pried his eyes away and saw Starsky walking toward them. He spoke quickly. "What's your game?"

"Getting rid of you."

He couldn't believe how bold she was. She sat there looking at him, her eyes hard, not blinking.

"Hey, why don't we order another round?" Starsky asked, smiling as he slid next to Susan. And that's when the girl dissolved into tears.

"Hey, baby. What's wrong?" Starsky cupped her chin, wiping the tears from her face.

Hutch sat there, knowing what was coming, incapable of doing a damn thing. Too late, he saw the trap.

"Oh, David, Ken said he doesn't like me." She was taking deep breaths between each sob.

Hutch just stared.

"Oh, baby. I'm sure you're mistaken."

Starsky's eyes meet his. Hutch squirmed in his seat.

"She's mistaken, isn't she, Hutch?"

Hutch had never lied to his partner. He wouldn't start now. He took a deep breath. She's not mistaken, Starsk. I said it."

Susan was sobbing audibly now, her body shaking.

"You can't mean that, Hutch," Starsky said incredulously. "Why would you say somethin' like that?"

"Because it's true."

"See, I told you," she babbled accusingly "He doesn't like me."

Starsky's head shot around, locking eyes with him for a second, a silent question in their indigo depths. Then his partner stood up, gathering the sobbing girl in his arms.

Susan was leaning against him, her body shaking, sobbing loudly with each step. Over and over again she said how much she wanted Hutch to like her, but he never would. Every eye in the bar followed the retreating couple, then turned to Hutch with disdain once they were gone.

Huggy came over and collected the glasses carefully, wrapping one in particular, and handing it to the distraught blond. "Tough break. Chick could get an Oscar for that performance."

Hutch nodded his head. He'd fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the books. It would have been funny if it weren't so damned serious.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**She's Not There**

**By M. Willow**

**Chapter Eight**

It had taken some time for Starsky to get Susan calmed down. She was so fragile, so easily injured. She was a study in contrast: a demanding lover in bed, a demur, fragile girl everywhere else. It didn't fit.

Starsky had made love to Susan after they got home. She had been so sweet, so needy, and he wanted her, but their lovemaking had been punctuated with lingering doubts. Hutch had never lied to him. Had never disliked someone for no reason. If he didn't like Susan, there had to be a good reason. Was she really a beautiful, venerable girl, or was there something more sinister?

He looked down at her small, upturned face. She looked a lot like Jenny when she slept, especially since she had dyed her hair red. She had Jenny's mannerisms too, which didn't make sense, since she had never met the woman. Then there was the accent. Starsky couldn't recall exactly when that started, but shortly after they had returned from Dobey's cabin, it had changed. Before she spoke with a Midwestern accent, sort of the way Hutch spoke when he was tired and his true roots came out. But now the woman sounded like she came straight out of Boston. It came and went, though, which also didn't make sense.

Their sex life had changed too. The woman actually gave him pause in bed, which wasn't easy to do. At first he told himself that she was a quick learner and eager to make up for lost time, but this went far beyond that. Susan wanted to try things in bed that were far too advanced for a woman claiming to be almost a virgin. And her technique was so similar to Jenny's that Starsky couldn't tell who he was actually making love to.

During the day, Susan was the sweet girl next door, blushing easily, batting her eyelashes. Very suspicious.

Starsky needed to do some digging into her past. Find out if she was somehow related to Jenny and was back for revenge. So far Susan claimed no knowledge of ever having met Jenny, but the way she looked, her mannerisms, the things they did in bed, told a different story. He wasn't buying coincidence, not when you were a cop and at least ten people in Bay City daily wanted you dead.

Starsky was convinced Hutch knew something. The blond had been walking on eggshells with him, afraid to speak his mind. If Hutch knew something, he was waiting on conclusive evidence before speaking. He wouldn't come crashing in, telling Starsky the woman was poison unless he had irrefutable proof.

Damn, Kira, he thought. Had it not been for her, they would have been working together on this. Would have found out what Susan was up to.

Of course, Susan could very well be just an innocent girl. At which point he was totally crazy and imagining the whole thing.

Starsky eased himself from the bed. It was who do you trust time and the answer was always going to be Me and Thee.

--

Hutch still couldn't believe what had happened. Still, it hadn't been a total waste. After he left The Pitts, he'd taken the glass with Susan's fingerprints to the station to be analyzed. He'd made it a rush job, so he hoped to have answers ready for Starsky soon. Once the report was ready, he would tell his partner everything, and hope the brunet believed him.

Hutch was in the kitchen getting a beer when the telephone rang. He answered it quickly, half expecting to hear Starsky's voice, knowing he wouldn't.

"Hello," he said.

"Ken. It's me. It's Kira."

Hutch could barely recognize the voice. The last time he saw her was the day she showed up at Parker Center to beg he and Starsky to forgive her. She'd actually suggested lunch. But both men had turned her down and she left crying.

Now she was back at the worst possible time. "We're not having this conversation," he said tightly.

"You've gotta meet me."

"For what? Another round of lets-destroy-Hutch. That's what you're calling for? Or is it you just miss screwing me over in more than one way?" His voice was harsh, anger tingeing the words.

"You've got to listen to me. Please."

She sounded tearful, but then Kira was an excellent actress. Especially when she was after something.

"Why don't you climb back into your hole, Kira."

"Please, Ken. Don't hang up. You've got to meet me."

"No. We're not having this conversation." Hutch was prepared to hang up. Kira had cost him enough heartache to last a life time.

"Please. If you value Dave's life you won't hang up."

Silence followed. The mention of his partner sent a chill down his spine. "What's this about?"

"Meet me."

Hutch didn't know if he could believe her, but if Starsky was in danger, he needed to hear what she had to say.

"What's this got to do with Starsky? Talk to me or I'm hanging up."

"Okay, but not over the phone. You've got to meet me."

"This has better not be a trick."

"It's not. But I can't talk now. Not over the phone."

Hutch grabbed his gun and holster, strapping it on. "When and where?"

"Back of Jilly's Club. About twenty minutes."

"Huggy's place," he said, wanting a more familiar setting.

"Too dangerous." Her voice sounded desperate. For a moment, he wondered if someone were holding a gun to her head. Kira was nervous, scared. She was a hard-nosed cop so that wasn't an easy feat.

"Okay. I'm on my way."

"Come, alone, or no meet."

"Why? What difference does it make?"

"Alone, Ken." And then she hung up.

Hutch had his coat on and was out the door without a backwards glance.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**She's Not There**

**By M. Willow**

**Chapter Nine**

The trip to Hutch's apartment hadn't taken much time. Starsky had let himself in and made himself comfortable on his partner's sofa. Hutch was nowhere to be found.

Starsky had a beer in his hand. It was his forth. He was bone tired, worried, confused, didn't know which end was up. It was who do you trust time and he knew the answer. Susan was lying. Had for some reason set his partner up and Starsky, for the life of him, couldn't figure out why.

A feeling of dread washed over him and he put the beer down on the table. It wasn't like Hutch not to be home at this hour unless he had a date. Starsky didn't figure on his partner having a date, which left him feeling like something bad was happening.

He thought about it for a moment, then picked up the telephone. It rang several times before Huggy picked up.

"Better be good," Huggy said.

"Hi, Hugs. Is Hutch still there?"

"Place been closed for over an hour, Starsk. He's probably home and in bed."

"He's not. I'm at his apartment."

Starsky heard the rustle of fabric, and Huggy's voice went on alert. "His car out front?"

"What's going on?" Starsky felt the cold stab of fear run up his spine.

"Maybe nothin'. Maybe he's with a chick."

"Tell me what's going on. If Hutch is in some danger…."

"It's not my place. You gotta talk to your other half."

Starsky was getting frustrated. "Please, Huggy, I got a bad feeling about this."

"I don't know where he is, Starsky, but you need to talk to him."

"It's about Susan, isn't it?"

Huggy took a deep breath, silence followed for several moments before he spoke. "Yeah, but that's all I'm sayin'. Talk to him."

"Look, Huggy, I think he's in danger."

Again Huggy stopped talking and Starsky practically held his breath.

"He was lookin' into Susan's past," Huggy finally said. "I gave him a glass with her prints on it. It's the last time I saw him."

"Huggy…"

"I'll make some calls over here. I'll let you know if I find anything."

Starsky's heart was pounding in his chest.

"Be careful. Okay?" Huggy said. "That chick is dangerous."

And Huggy hung up.

Starsky checked the apartment, looking for any clues that could tell him where Hutch had gone. One thing was certain, the car was not out front and Hutch had taken his gun.

--

Gilly's Bar was located in an upscale part of Bay City. The neighborhood was home to high-rise condos and a number of stores and bars that catered to the affluent citizens of the area. The bar itself had been inspired by art deco, the white building practically gleaming in the night sky. It had two high pillars and in the center, over the entry way, the pink letters proclaiming the bar's name, Gilly's.

The streets were pretty much deserted at this hour, the hustle and bustle of an area that always reminded Hutch of the busiest shopping center, had quieted to just an occasional car drifting by. Hutch parked his car in front of the bar on a wide street that glistened with moonlight.

Hutch wondered why Kira would pick this location for a meeting. The place reeked of money. Kira could hardly afford to live there. She'd left the department a few months ago, leaving no word as to her future plans. Hutch heard that she'd hooked up with a gambler once and was living well. Later, he heard that she was the mistress of an underworld figure. All rumors, he believed, with no foundation in truth. But now he wasn't so certain. He didn't trust her; that much he was certain, but if his partner's life was in danger, he needed to find out why and stop it.

Hutch looked around. There was only one other car on the street. It was parked directly across from him. The fire-engine red late model Volkswagen seemed out of place in an area home to BMWs and Mercedes, but then, of course, his car wouldn't exactly fit in either. Nevertheless, Hutch was on alert. He reasoned the car belonged to Kira and that she was now waiting for him in the alley where they agreed to meet, but the woman had sounded stressed, under duress. It was just possible that she had a gun pointed to her head when she'd called. Under normal circumstance Hutch would have called Starsky, but she had asked that he come alone and maybe he was just being paranoid.

Hutch strained his eyes, hoping to get a glimpse inside the car, but the windows were tinted black. He felt like there was someone there. It was cop instincts, but it had kept him alive all these years. Still, he had no other recourse but to get out of the car and take his chances. If Starsky was in jeopardy, he needed to discover why.

He got out of the car slowly, crouching low, gun drawn, ready for action. But nothing happened. Hutch stood up, looking at the car, then the building and finally headed for the alley.

Alleys were alleys, Hutch decided. It didn't matter if it was in the richest area of town or skid row. This alley was no different. It was dark and smelled of food and city smog. A few garbage cans sat straight ahead, illuminated by one single streetlight. And there was no sign of Kira.

He walked further on, hearing nothing but the sound of his own footsteps and his heartbeat. A cat leaped out and he nearly shot it, but it scurried across the alley, and headed out into the night. Then a rat ran across his foot and huddled in a corner, proving that there wasn't a place on earth that a rat couldn't call home.

For a moment, Hutch wondered if this was just another trick to get him back. Or maybe she had called Starsky and this was all a setup, the final blow to their friendship.

A sudden sound and Hutch pushed himself back against the wall. He could barely see the garbage can opposite him and wondered if there was someone behind them, hiding, waiting to leap out and take his life. But he heard nothing further and no one came out. Probably a rat or another cat, he reasoned. But it was too dark to really tell what he was looking at.

Hutch strained his eyes, trying to get a better look around the garbage cans. Eventually, he was able to see something dark lying next to the garbage can, but it was difficult to figure out what it was. It could easily be a bag, or a person seeking shelter from the night. He needed to get closer, so he inched along the wall, careful to keep himself hiding in shadow. At the last moment he launched himself across the alley, rolling quickly, then coming up to his feet, gun drawn. It was then that he saw what lay at his feet. She was shivering, blood pouring from her abdomen. Hutch didn't have to recall his medical training to know she was dying.

"Kira," he said, putting his gun down, and removing his jacket in spite of the danger. Blood was spurting from her abdomen and he needed to stop the flow. He pressed his jacket into the gaping wound and heard her gasp.

"Ken…Ken…So sorry. Wanted the money." Her voice was low, raspy. "Tell Dave I'm sorry."

"It's okay, baby. Okay. I'm gonna get you help. You'll be alright."

Kira grabbed his wrist. "Too late. Must know…Must tell you…green eyes. Golden eyes. Medusa."

And then he felt her body relax. He touched her neck, seeking the carotid artery, but knew he would find no life there. He sat, holding her to his chest, weeping openly, sorrow clutching his heart. She was gone.

Hutch didn't hear the car door open. He didn't hear the approaching footsteps. Nor did he hear the gun as it was cocked. A second later his world reverberated with the sound of gunfire.

**TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

**She's Not There**

**By M. Willow**

**Chapter Ten**

Starsky spent the next hour in a desperate search for Hutch. He had gone to all of his partner's usual haunts to no avail. At one point, he'd even gone home to check on Susan. He was happy to find her still asleep in bed. He didn't even want to think what it would have meant if she hadn't been there.

It was dispatch that finally provided a clue. Starsky had called in, asking if there was anything out of the ordinary going on and found out there had been a shooting behind a bar named Gilly's. An officer was involved. Now he was on his way there, mars light flashing, sirens blaring.

He reached his destination quickly; saw the squad cars surrounding the area. There was a body being taken from the alley. Starsky couldn't see the face because it was covered with a white sheet, but he could see the blond hair sticking out from the top.

He parked the car and raced across the streets, a million thoughts running through his mind with every step. An officer stopped him as he approached the body and he flashed his badge. Then Starsky saw his partner coming out of the alley. His shirt was covered in blood, but he looked okay.

"Not mine," Hutch said, as he came up to him.

"Thank God. I thought it was you for a minute there."

"It was someone else." Hutch turned and started walking toward his car. "Got to get to the station. They'll have questions."

Starsky grabbed him by the arm, spinning him around to face him. "Who was it?"

Hutch stood there, his face pale, eyes wide.

"Hutch who was it?"

And then his partner's legs gave out. Starsky grabbed him before he hit the pavement, holding the blond as he sagged against him.

"Hutch, you okay, buddy? You hurt?" Starsky pulled his partner away, visually checking the blond for any signs of injury.

"I'm okay. Just need to get out of here," he murmured.

"Let me get one of the paramedics. We need to get you checked out."

"No, got to get out of here. No hospitals."

Hutch righted himself, but he wouldn't look him in the eye. "Maybe you should drive. Don't think I'll be able too."

"Okay, but I still think you should see a doctor, Hutch."

"No. There's nothing they can do for me." And then he started walking toward Starsky's car.

--

Susan was livid. Johnny had called and told her Hutch was still alive, but that he was pretty sure Kira was dead. She couldn't believe he had missed his shot. The man was damn near perfect, but he had a flair for theatrics. She could well imagine he hoped Hutch would show up in the alley, find Kira dead, and sit there like a lame duck while he shot him. Only Hutch hadn't sat like a lame duck. He'd rolled his body out of the way, actually getting a shot off that had nearly killed Johnny instead. Now the dapper fake Englishman was probably holed up in a sleazy hotel somewhere, waiting for medical attention.

"That damned cop got lucky," Johnny had said. "If it hadn't been for that cat running out of the alley, he wouldn't have known I was there until it was too late. But he rolled out of the way and actually got a shot off. Damn near killed me in the process."

And Susan had listened to Johnny go on about how he'd suffered and his arm would never look the same again. On and on he went, sometimes even losing his fake accent as he described how the perfect plan had ended badly due to the stupid cat.

Susan had hung up the phone and sat on the sofa waiting for Ken to arrive. She knew one thing about Johnny; his theatrical flare could be her undoing. He had watched too many television shows where the killer confessed everything before killing his intended victim. He'd most likely told Kira everything he knew, which wasn't much, but damaging nonetheless. The foolish man probably called her Medusa and said a green-eyed woman had hired him. He probably got his kicks knowing the blonde would be dead long before Ken arrived. But what if she lived long enough to tell Ken about her? Kira would have been smart enough to figure the rest out. And she would have made sure it was the last thing she said to Ken before she died. The cops could be on their way to arrest her even now.

Susan headed to the bedroom, prepared to pack, but then she thought about David and returned to her place on the sofa.

She couldn't leave. She would take her chances and stay. Besides, she doubted Kira lived long enough to tell Ken anything.

She sighed, resting her head against the back of the sofa, planning how she would kill Johnny once she found the man. He needed to die for the crime of stupidity.

Well, at least Kira was dead, she reasoned. Johnny had said the gunshot was to her abdomen. People could survive some gunshot wounds, like one to the arm or even the head, but one to the abdomen was nearly always fatal.

Susan had hired Kira to get information on David. The woman was already working on a case with the two detectives and seemed the best candidate for the job. David would never suspect that the comely detective was gathering information on him.

The assignment changed when Susan received her first report regarding his partner. The men were close. Too close. They weren't homosexuals, but the relationship was just as bothersome to Susan who wanted to be the only one in David's life. It was then that she changed Kira's mission. Now she was to sleep with both men and get Ken to fall in love with her. The blond was to discover that his partner was sleeping with Kira and storm out of David's life forever. The friendship would end on a sour note and Susan would have David to herself. A perfect plan. She didn't like the thought of Kira sleeping with her future lover, but was willing to live with it knowing that he would be hers in the end. But the plan didn't work. David had been the one to fall in love with Kira.

Susan had been angry, planning to kill Kira for the crime of making the wrong man fall in love with her, but again Kira proved that she loved money most of all. Kira agreed to let the men find out about the affair. She would become sloppy, wait for them to discover what was going on, then she would leave town and everything would go as originally planned. At that point, Susan saw Kira as a minor stumble in the game of love.

A week later and the affair was discovered with the expected outcome. Susan was elated. Ken was finally out of David's life and Kira had already made plans to resign. Now, all she had to do was show up and catch David on the rebound. But again the plan went awry. David forgave Ken and the friendship continued as if nothing had happened. To make matters worse, Susan discovered that Kira had resigned, but was still in town, shacked up with a well-heeled hoodlum. And she was still hoping to get David and Ken back, redefining the word slut.

It had been pure coincidence that Susan had been arriving as Kira left the police station on the day she made her first appearance in David's life. The woman had looked upset, her eyes red-rimmed as if she had been crying. Kira looked at her briefly as they passed in the hallway.

The last time she'd seen Kira, she had been Karen—an overweight woman with blond hair and green eyes. She had given Kira the silly story that David had dumped her a few years ago and she wanted information on him and his partner so she could find a way back in his life. She knew Kira hadn't believed her, but the woman had been greedy. It was easy money, so she took it without question.

For the most part, Karen was an interesting character. She was soft-spoken, almost shy, a throw-back to another age. Susan had spent a lot of time honing this character because it was so close to the way she would be with David. But she hadn't hidden her green-gold eyes. They were her calling card. So now she paid the price for her vanity. Kira had figured out that Karen and Susan was the same person.

Later, that same day, Susan saw her in the grocery store. This time Kira wore a disguise, but the black wig and oversized coat couldn't hide the slim blond woman she really was.

A few days later, Susan saw her looking up at the window at David's apartment. She hadn't looked like herself with the frizzy red hair, but Susan was capable of seeing through disguises, especially that of an amateur. Kira had fallen into the trap that many found themselves in. She had thought putting on a wig and wearing shabby clothes would hide her true identity, but Susan knew that more was required. A true professional became a character.

Susan had spent many years becoming people, hiding inside a person's head, feeling what they felt, living their life. It was difficult and somewhat dangerous because you were always in danger of losing yourself.

Susan recalled the dizzy spells and waking up days later still dressed in the clothes of her latest character. It was both exhilarating and scary. But in all her years, no one had ever seen her face unless she wanted them to. Kira was a problem.

Susan was a retired killer. She was rich ten times over and had wanted to settle down, marry David, have children. She had thrown away her disguises and became the woman she wanted to be. Kira had seen her face and needed to die because of it, but Susan didn't want more blood on her hands. And she had realized that the deaths of two people close to David would be suspicious. That's when she decided to go to Johnny.

She came up with the perfect plan. Johnny would kidnap Kira and have her lure Ken to the alley behind Gilly's. He would kill Kira first and then wait for Ken to arrive and kill him next. Then he was to take their money to make it look like a robbery. Everyone would think Kira and Ken had met in the alley to have sex, but had been surprised by a robber. David would see it as the final act of betrayal. He would mourn the blond for a short time before hatred settled in. It wouldn't matter that he was no longer involved with Kira. It would matter only that his partner had lied. And Susan would end up the sole recipient of David's love.

Susan turned on the television. The news report blazed with the story of the shooting of someone behind Gilly's bar. The name of the victim was being withheld, but it was without doubt Kira. Then the reporter added something Johnny hadn't mentioned: there was an eyewitness.

--

The sun was shining by the time they arrived home. Hutch had changed and put on clean clothing. Now they sat in the kitchen, two steaming mugs of coffee in front of them. Starsky was still waiting to find out who had died in the alley. He was looking at his friend expectantly, but Hutch still seemed closed off, as if he were deciding how to handle what he had to say.

"Just say it, Hutch. Stop walking on egg shells around me."

Hutch looked up, concern in his blue eyes. "I don't know how to 'just say it', Starsk."

"Start by telling me who died."

"Murdered. It was murder." Hutch took a deep breath. "I was standing there watching her die, knowing I couldn't do a damn thing."

Starsky's breath caught in his throat. "It was Kira, wasn't it?"

Hutch nodded his head. "I tried to save her. Tried to keep her alive till help arrived. But she died in my arms and there was nothing I could do about it."

Starsky took a deep breath, remembering the woman he once thought he loved. It seemed so long ago. Back then he saw only the good in her, and maybe a little bit of Terry. Of course, he had been wrong. No one could replace Terry.

But now she was dead, and he would have been lying if he said it didn't matter. And he knew his partner felt the same way.

"Before Kira died, she said something," Hutch continued. "She said to tell you she was sorry and that she wanted the money. And then she said something I think you should know."

Starsky felt a knot form in his stomach. What Hutch had to say couldn't be good. He saw it in his eyes, the grief for Kira, mixed in with something else. "Say it. Tell me what her last words were," he said slowly.

Hutch hesitated for a second. "She said, green eyes, golden eyes. Medusa."

Starsky took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He gazed into his partner's eyes and saw only love there and it was like he was seeing him for the last time. After he told him the truth, he would see only disgust and Hutch wouldn't want to have anything to do with him. It was the end of Me and Thee.

"It's time you know," he said. "It's time you learn what kind of man I am."

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

**She's Not There**

**By M. Willow**

**Chapter Eleven**

The two men had moved to the living room. Starsky sat on the floor, his legs crossed, while Hutch had to content himself sitting opposite on the sofa. He watched his partner intently, could see the tension in his body, the way Starsky looked at him as if he were saying goodbye.

"I've known two women with eyes like that, Hutch. If Kira left a message, maybe this whole thing started back over ten years ago. Maybe Susan is here because of it. But you need to understand why she's got such a tight hold on me, and why I was sick enough to let it go on."

Starsky pushed his legs up and wrapped his arms around them. Hutch waited, glad to finally understand what was happening to his friend, yet sad that telling him caused the brunet so much pain.

"I met Jenny Alexander right after I got back from Nam," Starsky said, his voice low. "I had moved back to New York, thinking I wanted to be near my family, but I couldn't see them. I wasn't worthy of being in their presence after what they'd done to me back when I was a POW. That's how I wound up standing on the river that day. I was…I was thinkin' about just ending the whole thing. But I couldn't."

Hutch's heart skipped a beat, imagining the pain his partner must have felt to have even considered ending his life, but he remembered the nightmares that made Starsky scream out at night and he wasn't so naive to think that one year as a POW hadn't had an affect on the brunet.

"Jenny was a real beauty. She had these eyes that were a light shade of green with golden flecks. If ya looked at her in the right light they looked sort of golden. That's the way she looked the day I first met her."

Starsky smiled, the memories warming his rugged features. "She came up behind me when I was standin' on the river, then she stood right next to me, almost like she could see my turmoil and was my guarding angel." Starsky paused. "She had hair like mine; curly but the color was pure red. God, I was tongue-tied. Couldn't say one word to her, so we just stood there watching the sun go down. Then, like an idiot, I just turned and left. Didn't say one word." He met Hutch's eyes. "Can you imagine me, tongue-tied and letting a beautiful girl like that go?"

"Hutch shook his head, smiling. "Can't say I've ever seen it."

"Yeah, but I was smart enough to spend the next weeks lookin' for her. And one day, I guess I got the timing right and there she was. Man, we were intense. You know how it goes when you fall hard, can't get enough of each other. Don't care who sees?"

Hutch nodded his head.

"Yeah, well it was how it was with Jenny and me. Thought it would go on like that forever. She saved me from my demons." Starsky raised his hand pushing his fingers a little far apart for emphasis. "I was this close to asking her to marry me, but every time I was about to do it, she would interrupt."

Hutch was surprised at Starsky's admission. He'd never heard about Jenny and figured the relationship must have been casual. He would never have imagined his partner had been that serious about anyone other than Terry.

"One day, over dinner," Starsky continued. "She told me why. She told me why we could never marry." Starsky again wrapped his arms around his legs and rocked gently. "Jenny's folks had money. Parents probably could have brought the entire world and had money left over. Jenny had come to New York to get away from the Alexander money and the Alexander insanity that ran in her family."

Hutch searched his memory for the Alexander name. The Hutchinsons were rich and social circles crossed often. It didn't take long for him to recall Paul Alexander, a wealthy financier. A man who'd come from nothing to something in just over five years. He was ruthless, or so Hutch had heard, but the first time he'd met him he'd just been the man with the golden eyes.

It was the 1950's and Hutch and his family were spending the season in Paris. Paul Alexander had been there with his family, a wife and a girl named Jenny. The girl had eyes like her father and curly red hair that nearly reached her waist. Hutch couldn't remember anything else about her, and he could hardly remember what she looked like, but he would never forget the eyes. Still, he didn't want to tell Starsky about that now, so he stayed quiet.

"I had seen hell back in Nam," Starsky said, gazing into Hutch's eyes. "I had…I had to deal with stuff I didn't know what to do with. Jenny helped me to battle my demons. I wasn't gonna let her go because she had a few of her own." He paused. "I told her that I loved her. Nothin' was never gonna change that. She told me that she would move in with me if I promised to call her dad if she started acting strange. And I promised, but I also promised that I would never leave her. It didn't matter about the insanity. Didn't matter because I loved her that much."

Starsky started to rock his body back and forth. "She finally agreed to move in with me, but she wanted to wait before agreeing to marriage. Told me that she wanted to make sure she didn't go crazy. By then I was driving a hack and had started to see my family again. Jenny didn't like that too much. Guess she saw it as a threat. Before it had been just the two of us and I was livin' off my savings. Now there was Ma and Nicky and the cab."

Starsky stood up and came to sit next to Hutch on the sofa. "She tried to talk me out of seein' my family, but it would have been like cutting my arm off, so I turned her down. That's when the threats started. First against me and then Ma and Nicky. She told me she didn't want anything else in my life but her. She told me that even death itself couldn't stand between us. That I was hers forever and she would hurt anyone that stood in the way."

Starsky hunched forward, his breaths coming quick. Hutch moved his hand behind Starsky's back, rubbing his neck until his breathing slowed and he was able to speak again. "Later on she apologized. Said she was just angry and didn't mean it. And I believed her, but Ma started to get phone calls. Someone would call and not say anything. I lied to myself and said it had nothin' to do with Jenny. And then Nicky was attacked one night when he was comin' out of a club. Someone snuck up behind him and hit him with a baseball bat. Nearly killed him."

Hutch let out a breath. "Jenny?"

"Nicky said all he saw was a shadow, but he was pretty sure it was a man. Kept sayin' he would have known if it were a girl. But you know Nick."

Hutch knew him well enough to know that Nick wouldn't want anyone to know he'd been hit by a girl. It would have ruined his reputation.

"And then I lied to myself again. Said it couldn't be Jenny. Ma got more calls and finally she actually heard a voice." Starsky closed his eyes. "The voice said she better leave town if she knew what was good for her. Ma said it was a woman and that the voice sounded muffled, like it was disguised."

"Did you confront Jenny?"

"Yeah. She told me that it was against the law to do that. She didn't deny it though."

Hutch thought back to Susan and the incident in the bar. She had been bold like that, too.

"I couldn't prove a thing. After awhile, I started to think I was imagining it. We went on with our lives. Started planning our wedding."

Starsky rubbed his head, then leaned back on the sofa. "Man, there were times when she seemed normal and I would forget all about my suspicions. She was so sweet. Like an angel, but there were things about her that didn't add up. She was a…" Starsky blushed, stealing a glance at Hutch. "Intense in bed. Went from acting like a virgin to a ah…, well, I wasn't exactly a prude, but there were some things I wouldn't do. She pushed the limits. And I was still in love with her."

Starsky started breathing hard again and Hutch grabbed his hand, holding it tightly. "Easy, buddy. Going to be okay. You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"I gotta, Hutch," Starsky said, looking at him. "I can't go on like this. I can't keep lying to you."

"You're not lying to me, Starsk. You don't need to tell me this. We can figure this out without you saying a word."

Starsky smiled, but it was bittersweet. "You don't know what that means to me. But you gotta know that all these years, all the time we've known each other, I been hidin' this. I pretended that the nights I woke up screamin' was because of Nam. But it ain't true. It was because of her. Because of Jenny. Now Kira is dead and this whole thing with Susan got to be related. I need you to know what you're dealin' with here." He paused.. "I don't expect you to be here when I finish tellin' you this, but you still need to know, cause if what I'm suspecting' is true, your life's in danger."

"I'm not going anywhere, Starsk. You've got to know that."

But Starsky shook his head. "You don't know how much I want that to be true. But wishin' ain't gonna make it so."

Hutch moved closer to the brunet. "Remember, me and thee. Nothing going to change that."

Starsky looked at him for a second, then took a deep breath and continued. "Two months passed and nothin' strange happened. Ma said she had stopped getting the calls and Nicky was back in the street, completely recovered. Jenny said she was over her jealousy and wanted a relationship with my family, so we started going over to see Ma," Starsky paused, then continued. "Jenny acted like she loved Ma. She even got along with Nick. I lied to myself again and forgot my suspicions. I kept creating this dream world where everything was okay and she wasn't losing her mind. And then everything came falling down on my head. It started when Jenny claimed Nick made a pass at her. Nick had done that sort of thing before so I told her to forget it and that I would talk to him. Set him straight. But when I brought it up with him, he denied it. I believed him because he wouldn't lie about stuff like that. But I was still in denial. I figured Jenny just misread the signals. Nick, even then, was sort of flirtatious."

The Nick Hutch knew would have proudly bragged about hitting on Starsky's girl. Apparently he hadn't changed much.

Starsky ran a hand through his hair. "Then one day I got back from work and found her waitin'. She had a girl with her and said she wanted to try somethin' new. I

was…shocked when she told me she wanted a threesome. It seemed even beyond her."

Starsky blushed. "Hutch, you know me. I mean…it wasn't as if I hadn't done stuff like that before. It was just that I loved Jenny. I didn't want anyone else."

Hutch nodded his head. He knew his partner had had his fair share of threesomes, they both had. And two attractive women was the ultimate aphrodisiac, but not when they were in love.

"I told her no," Starsky said. "Told her that I didn't want to do it. She told me she knew I wanted the girl. That she'd seen me lookin' at her the other day and that's why she hired her. But Hutch, I had never laid eyes on that woman before. I didn't know who she was and I didn't want anyone but Jenny. We argued and the girl left, but Jenny said she was going to keep an eye on her, because she knew all about the affair we were having. That the voices told her what we did in the cab. Later, she told me she had only been testing me."

Starsky stared at Hutch as if committing his face to memory. "Jenny started to come to the cab station, making a scene about two of the female dispatchers that worked there. Said she knew I was sleepin' with both of them. It didn't matter that I kept denying it. And then less than a month later the girl that was in our apartment was found dead. It was all over the streets and the newspapers even had a picture of her."

"Murdered?" Hutch said, incredulously.

"Drug overdose, they say."

Hutch felt the blood drain from his face, remembering when he thought he would meet that same end.

"Sorry, Blondie," Starsky said, rubbing his back.

Hutch was struck by the man his partner was. Here he was reliving the worst moment in his life, and yet he still found time to comfort him. "I'm okay. Sorry."

"You Sure…"

"Yeah, just a little flashback."

Starsky leaned forward and dropped his head into his hands. "I was pretty sure Jenny did it, but she said she'd been at a movie the night it happened. I couldn't prove she wasn't. I started asking questions around town. I went to the cops and told them that I believed the girl was murdered, but I didn't mention Jenny, just told them they should check into it. They told me they already had. And that she was just one more junkie that had made a bad ending with the end of a needle. But I knew I had to do something. I still loved Jenny, but if she was killin' people, I had to stop her."

Starsky looked at Hutch, splaying his hands. "I called her father. Told him what had happened. He didn't even seem surprise. Told me to keep her in the house and that he was coming the next day. Then I called Nicky and told him to keep an eye on Ma. That's when I found out that Ma was still getting calls. She just didn't want to upset me."

Starsky ran a hand down his face. "Paul, Jenny's father, showed up the next day. I had taken the day off and told Jenny I wanted to spend it with her. Kept her in the house. She actually thanked me for takin' care of her."

Tears sprang in the brunets eyes and he wiped them away. "Her father showed up with two men and they…they went to get her. I would never forget the look of betrayal on her face. I…I told her I was sorry, but she needed help. She started fighting then. I wanted to go with them, but her father wouldn't allow it. Said it would be distracting for Jenny. But the whole time they were getting her out of the house, she kept screamin' for me. She was like a wild thing, fighting, clawing at the men. Tryin' to get to me. Said she was coming back for me. But they finally got her out of the house. "

Starsky dropped his head into his hands, his breathing hard, body shaking. "Just give me a minute, Hutch."

Hutch rubbed the brunet's back until the shaking subsided. Then Starsky went on.

"I thought it was over. Paul told me he would have her institutionalized. He said she would get the help she needed. I couldn't prove what happened to that poor girl, so I didn't think I had a choice. I was wrong. I should have forced the cops to believe me. Shouldn't have left her to her father. Should have done everything I coulda to stop her from going after more people. But I didn't and Jenny escaped from her father and killed again."

"How many?"

"Two. Those two women from my job. The ones Jenny accused me of sleeping with."

"How did they die?"

"House blew up. Looked like a gas explosion, but I knew different. Three women were dead and they all knew me. And Jenny."

Hutch whistled. "No proof?"

"You got it. I knew she'd covered her tracks again. They weren't gonna find anything and she was gonna keep on killin'. I had Nick take Ma out of town because figure she was comin' for them next. And then I waited. I knew she would come back for me and less than a week later she showed up."

Starsky stopped talking and stared at Hutch. It was silent in the room, like everything in nature was waiting. And then his partner's soft voice. "She walked in the door and started talkin' like she didn't remember what had happened. She wanted to go on a picnic, just the two of us. I went in the bedroom and called her father. He was my only hope. I just needed to get her locked up, somehow. Anyhow, he was still at the hotel, hoping Jenny would show up. I let him know she was with me and that I would bring her to him. He argued about it, wanted to come and pick her up again, but I wasn't gonna take any chances this time. I was planning to go all the way to Boston and watch them put her in the mental hospital. I couldn't afford to take the chance that she wouldn't get away again."

Starsky looked down at his hands. "I got Jenny in the car. She thought we were going on a picnic so all the while I was drivin' she kept going on about what a good time we were gonna have. Damn near killed me to hear it, knowing where I was really taken her. I didn't notice when she got quiet."

Starsky started to rock back and forth, his eyes wide. "She was sick, I knew that. And I promised to take care of her. It was my responsibility to make sure she didn't hurt anybody. My responsibility, but I was too much in love to see the truth until it was too late."

Starsky looked down at his hands like he could see blood there, but Hutch covered them with his. "You did the best you could for her, Starsk. You can't blame yourself."

"But I do. I can't stop blaming myself."

Starsky leaned back against the sofa. Hutch could feel the tension in the brunet's body and he tightened his grip.

Starsky went on. "She got real quiet. I looked at her a few times and she was just staring out the window and then she said that she knew where I was taking her and thanked me. After that, all hell broke loose. She started tryin' to jump from the car and I was holding on to her for dear life, trying to steer the car and keep her in it at the same time. She was screaming, telling me I had betrayed her. Still trying to get…to get out of the car."

Starsky clutched Hutch's arm, but he wouldn't look at him. "I kept tryin' to drive and she kept fighting. We had just made it past this curve in the road. There wasn't as much traffic and I couldn't keep going, what with her hitting me and everything. So I tried to swing over into the right lane. And then…oh god, a truck….I didn't see….I didn't know. I swerved the car trying to avoid the truck, and somehow the car wound up going down a hill."

Hutch was holding on to his partner's arm as Starsky suddenly doubled over.

"Next thing I know, I was comin' to on the road. I had been thrown from the car. I couldn't see very well. And my head hurt. I saw the car…the flames…Oh, god…oh, god…she was screaming and I…I couldn't…I couldn't move. I was laying on the ground and couldn't move."

Starsky stopped talking, taking deep breaths, tears falling down his face. "She kept calling my name and trying to get out of the car. The flames kept getting higher and all I did was watch. I watched her burn. I smelled my Jenny burning in that car and I didn't do nothin' to try and save her." Starsky wiped his face. "Then I saw this guy coming toward me and blacked out. I woke up four days later in a hospital. By then they had already had the funeral and there was nothin' left of my Jenny."

Starsky was sobbing uncontrollably now and Hutch pulled him to his chest. "Not your fault, Starsky. Not your fault. You had a concussion. You couldn't move because of it. You've got to see that."

"I killed all those girls. I watched Jenny die. I could have seen the truck. I could have pulled her from the car. I could have stopped her from killin' those girls. Don't you see, I knew she was sick. A thousand times I coulda done something to help her. Four people are dead causa me." Starsky pulled away, rubbing his hands as if he were washing something away. "I look at these hands and I see blood. I see their faces asking me why I couldn't save them. I see Jenny asking me why I let her do it. I look at my face in the mirror and I see a monster."

Starsky was talking fast now, nearly hysterical. "All those deaths because of me. Oh, god. I gotta get away. I gotta…" he clutched his head as if still hearing Jenny's screams. "I see all of them at night, asking me why I didn't do somethin' to save them and I ain't got an answer for them except I was selfish."

Hutch tried to hold Starsky as he bolted for the door, but the brunet was strong and determined to get away. Hutch moved quickly and caught him by the arm. "You're going to stay here and listen to me."

Starsky was breathing hard but he didn't say anything.

"It wasn't your fault. You get it? You went to the police station. You made sure your family was safe. And you called Jenny's father. You did all that you could. It just didn't have a happy ending."

"You don't understand. I'm a monster. I let my love for Jenny get in the way of doing something that would have saved all those lives. Ma and Nicky coulda died because of me too."

"So you're human. You wanted to believe Jenny, but you still did something. It wasn't your fault the cops didn't believe you. And you're not a monster. You're my best friend."

"How can you bare the sight of me now that you know?"

"You mean now that you've admitted to loving someone?" Hutch reached over and grabbed Starsky's neck with his hand and pulled the brunet into his arms. "Get this through your thick skull. I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to see your ugly mug as long as I'm on this earth. And there's never going to be a day that I won't be grateful that God put you in my life."

And Hutch felt his partner relax against him.

"Oh, God, I thought I'd lost you," Starsky murmured.

"Not that easy to get rid of me."

Starsky pulled back, wiping his eyes. "Okay, but this is getting too soapy." He smiled and so did Hutch.

"Well then, let's get out of here, or Dobey will have both our hides."

--

There were only a few detectives milling around in the early morning hours at Parker Center. Hutch had spent the past hour listening to Simonetti go on about how he would have his badge. But Hutch wasn't worried. There was a witness, a man who'd been out walking his dog and had seen a man exit the alley carrying a gun. He had a reasonable description of the killer, a man who'd been described as about six feet with salt and pepper hair. The dog walker had gotten so close that he'd even seen the color of the man's eyes which were gray. Right now he was with the police artist having a sketch made.

And since the killer had been shot by Hutch, it was reasonable to expect that he would seek medical help. Hutch already had Huggy listening out for reports of a wounded man who needed to have a bullet removed.

Now, both detectives sat in the office with Dobey.

"Kira left a letter for you two," Dobey said, handing Hutch the letter. "We found it in her pocket."

Starsky came up to sit on the arm of Hutch's chair, his arm draped across his shoulder. Hutch opened the envelope and found the folded letter. He opened it with shaky hands, suddenly feeling the warmth of his partner's hand on his shoulder.

_Dear David and Ken: If you're reading this, it means my suspicions were real and I'm dead. I know you'll never believe it, but what started off as merely an assignment, turned into something even I hadn't expected: I fell in love. For the first time in my whole rotten life, I found two men who made my heart melt._

_But I must warn you. I will assume that I was murdered. If that is the case, only look to a woman named Karen. I don't know her last name. She was merely a woman who hired me to get information on both of you and finally to break up your friendship. _

_David, I believe that the woman I know as Karen is in actuality Susan Shepard. If I'm right you may be in danger._

_I don't have evidence; I can't prove it, so call it cop instincts. I've followed her, yet I've never been successful at it. And recently, I felt like someone was following me. _

_I want both of you to watch out. And I want you to know how sorry I am that things couldn't have ended differently for us. I truly loved you both._

_Kira_

Hutch fought tears as he put the letter back in the envelope and handed it to Dobey. He felt his partner's hand increase its grip on his shoulder and leaned back into the warmth that was Starsky.

They all three sat, listening to the drum of the air conditioner, each lost in thought.

For Hutch, Kira had meant salvation from the deep depression he found himself in. She had brightened his day, made him see the good in life again.

And for Starsky she had meant a return to love.

Hutch had to ask himself if he would have found his way back to life had it not been for Kira. It was Kira that made him see that the most important person in his life was still there for him. Starsky had loved him through his betrayal. Had loved him through the darkest part of his despair. But Hutch hadn't known how much he'd been loved until his partner forgave him for his greatest sin.

He heard Starsky stifle a sob and turned to see the tears glistening in his eyes. Hutch touched his hand and looked into the indigo depths of his eyes. They said nothing, mindful of the fact that they were not alone, but the words were spoken in the touch between them and Hutch knew that one day they would celebrate the woman Kira was.

"Kira's last words…tell me again," Dobey said, quietly. He'd been called right after the shooting. The big man sat at his desk, unshaven and looking a little shaken by the incident. Hutch had survived a close call with death. He'd survived only because he had heard a cat and turned just as the first shot was fired. For Dobey, a man who had become like a father to him, this was unnerving.

Hutch turned around and faced the big man. He wiped the tears from his eyes and found his voice. "Green eyes, golden eyes. Medusa."

Dobey let out a breath and then wiped his brow. "Anything else?"

Starsky stepped forward, leaning on the desk. "What's up, cap'n. You look like you know somethin'."

"Yeah, but I need all the pieces." He pointed to both of them. "And you two are hiding something."

Starsky sat down in the chair opposite the blond.

Dobey looked perplexed. "All right, cut the crap. One of my best men been shot at. The other one's been walkin' around for weeks looking like he's seeing a ghost. Then Kira leaves a letter talkin about Karen and Susan, two women I've never heard of. Tell me what the hell is going on?"

"Maybe I am seeing a ghost," Starsky said, his voice low, distant.

"What are you talkin' about, Starsky? What the hell is wrong with you?" Dobey was practically shouting, his patience running thin.

Starsky leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. The partner's exchanged glances and a thousand words were spoken. Finally he looked at Dobey. "There's something you should know." And he told the captain everything. At the end of it, Dobey leaned back in his chair.

"You say she has green eyes?"

"Yeah," Starsky said. "Both women. Looks golden in the right light."

Dobey wiped his brow with a handkerchief. "Medusa, Hmm." He looked thoughtful, then started to speak. "Got a story to tell you. 1972…maybe 73'. Killer. One witness who said he saw someone with very light green eyes kill a man. Five other killings that year. Obvious hits. There were other witnesses that got close enough to see her. They both described a green-eyed woman, but the descriptions didn't match. The killer is bold. She can hide her eyes, but it's her calling card. Sort of like Zorro with the big letter Z. Twenty-five killings with the same MO. Eventually they started calling her the Medusa."

Hutch let out a breath. "You saying that Susan is…"

"A hitwoman?" Starsky added.

Both men exchanged glances.

"I ran a print on her," Hutch said. "Should be coming back any minute."

"I doubt it tell us anything," Starsky said. "A person with her skills wouldn't be that clumsy."

"Besides, there was never a print at the crime scenes," Dobey added.

"So what's our next move?" Hutch asked, looking at his partner and then Dobey. "We just can't march in there and arrest her. She would be out before our shifts over."

"And you can bet she wouldn't hang around for long," Starsky added.

"So what do we do? We've got to stop her. Even if we can't get her for the crimes she's already committed, we can't just let her stay on the street."

"I say we bring her in. Put her before the few people who saw her. Maybe they can identify her." Dobey said.

"What good would that do, Cap'n?" Starsky said. "You said, yourself, that nobody's ever seen her real face. Can't arrest a woman for having green eyes."

"Less than two percent of the world population has green eyes," Hutch said. "Even fewer that light,"

Dobey sighed. "But you're right. We couldn't hold her on that." He slammed his fist down. "She kills right in front of our faces and doesn't serve one day in prison."

"What type of hits are we talking, Cap'n?"

"Strictly high-class. Politicians…rich people. All over the world."

Silence followed and the three men contemplated their present circumstances. Hutch was pleased to see color returning to his partner's face.

"How does she kill, Cap'n?" Starsky asked, running a hand through his hair.

"Broad daylight. Likes to get up close and personal. Walks up to a man on the street and blows his brands out. Never looks the same way twice. They call her the Medusa because rumor has it that anyone sees her real face is dead."

"Ancient Greek mythology," Hutch began. One of the Gorgon sisters. Medusa was the one who turned…"

"Men to stone if they looked at her face," Starsky continued, surprising Hutch. He'd never known Starsky to get interested in Greek Mythology.

"Saw the movie," he answered by way of explanation. "It was about a man who discovered some villagers were killed by being turned to stone. Think it was called "The Gorgon" or something like that."

Hutch shook his head, amazed at the types of films the brunet watched. "Okay, similar to the myth only this one goes, if you see her real face, you're dead."

"Yeah," Starsky agreed.

"Which means either we've seen her real face or the phony one."

"I'm betting on the phony," Starsky said. "We're both still alive."

"But Kira isn't and for all intents and purposes, I shouldn't be alive either."

Starsky stiffened. "Don't say that, Hutch."

"Sorry. But I believe Susan hired someone to do it so she wouldn't have to dirty her hands. If I hadn't ducked at the last moment, I wouldn't be here now."

Dobey cleared his throat. "She's a master of disguises, but the green eyes are her calling card. One time she posed as a bag lady. Knocked the guy off in front of his house. The next she was a maid. Actually killed a man as he slept. The other maid described her as an Asian woman with pale green eyes. She was a high-priced lawyer once. Killed the guy right in the court room. She was black that time. Had light green eyes. Can't say I ever recalled seeing blacks with that eye color."

"So why Starsky?" Hutch asked.

Starsky shrugged. "Because she looks like Jenny?"

"Did Jenny have a sister?"

"Only child." Starsky answered.

"You sure about that?" Hutch asked. "I remember Paul Alexander. It's just possible he had more than one daughter."

Starsky raised an eyebrow. "You knew Paul Alexander?"

"Met him a few times when I was part of his circle. I was a kid, so I know him mostly by reputation."

Hutch never felt comfortable talking about his past as the rich kid of two uncaring parents. Starsky understood that, so he moved on quickly and answered the question.

"Jenny didn't mention her, but maybe she didn't know."

Hutch went to the water cooler and filled two cups with water. He came back and handed one to Starsky who drank gratefully, then he leaned against the wall near Dobey's desk. "So somehow Susan or whatever her name is, finds out about Jenny and decides to become her. Why?"

"Don't know. Says she's in love with me."

Hutch came to stand behind his partner's chair, hands on his shoulders. "But why?"

"I'm a lovable guy. What can I say?" Starsky smiled and Hutch felt the tension ease from his partner's body.

"Unless she is Jenny's sister and she's looking for revenge," Hutch said. "How much does she resemble Jenny?"

"Nearly identical, especially with the red hair."

"Got any pictures?"

"No, couldn't bear to look at them so I destroyed all of them."

"So if we're talkin' revenge…"

"Don't think so," Starsky said. "She had plenty of time to get me. Could have killed me a thousand times by now, but she went after you."

"Possible she knows how close you two are," Dobey said. "Get to you by killing your best friend."

Hutch shook his head. "She's a hitwoman, Cap'n. If it was vengeance, looks like she'd get a better kick out of killing me herself. And then letting Starsky know she did it and why. No, I'm thinking she really is in love with Starsky and wants to get me out of the way."

"Because, like Jenny, Susan doesn't want anyone else in my life," Starsky added, thoughtfully. "She wants to be the only one. She'll kill anyone that gets in her way."

Dobey nodded his head then looked uncomfortable. "Starsky, I hate to get this personal, but I need to know. "Are you sure this isn't Jenny? I know you said she's ten years younger and you saw her burn in the car. But maybe that guy you saw before you blacked out, got to her in time. Maybe…"

"Not a burn on her and I've seen every inch of her," Starsky added, his face red.

"Okay," Dobey said, "but we still got a woman who for all intents and purposes looks and acts like a woman she supposedly has never met. How did she get that kind of information?"

Hutch had considered this earlier after hearing Starsky's story. There were only two ways she could know about Jenny in enough detail to become her. Either she knew the woman or someone provided enough information to carry it off.

Hutch looked at his partner. The brunet was looking better and he hated to bring this up, but he had to. "Maybe she was hired by Paul Alexander. Maybe he hates you because you were unable to save Jenny."

Starsky swallowed hard and Hutch could see the pain briefly flick across his eyes, but when he spoke he was all business. "Possible. But there were certain details he couldn't know about."

Dobey cleared his throat again. "I don't want to be indelicate, but…"

"Certain intimate techniques," Starsky added quickly.

Dobey dropped his head, looking embarrassed. "What we do know is that she's a cold blooded killer who's got to be stopped. If we don't do it, she'll go on."

"Then I'll stop her!" Starsky said. "I'll stop her. Something I didn't do ten years ago."

Hutch shook his head then came around to perch on the edge of the captain's desk, facing his partner. "No way, Starsky. You're not going back there."

Starsky stood up, grabbing Hutch's arm. "What choice I got? More blood on my hands? Watch her add to her list of victims?"

"I don't like it."

"And I don't like her going after you."

Both men stared defiantly at each other, then turned to look at Dobey when he suddenly shouted, "Don't I have a say in this? Starsk, I agree with your partner. You're not going back in there because you look like hell and ya ain't thinking straight."

"Don't matter what I feel and look like," Starsky countered. "I'm the only thing ya got. How long they been chasin' her. How many people dead?"

Dobey stared at him for a second.

"Don't like it." Hutch said, knowing his partner was right. "Don't want you going in alone."

"Ain't gonna be alone. You're going too."

Hutch stared puzzled. "How? She's not exactly a member of my fan club."

"Easy. You're going to beg her forgivness and we're going to wait for her to come after you again. We both know this isn't the end. I'd rather she come after you on our terms than hers. This way we can get her and throw her in jail."

Dobey shook his head. "I don't like it. It's dangerous."

"What else we got, Cap'n?"

Dobey sat quietly. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay," he finally said.

"Not okay. I don't like you being there alone, Starsk. I can't be there every second of the day. I can't watch your back."

"You can't watch it if she goes free either. How long before she figures out I betrayed her and go after both of us?"

"And what if she kills you in your sleep?"

"I'm not waitin' for her to make another hit on you, Blondie. You and I both know that she couldn't have been in that alley. That witness said it was a man, which means it's someone she hired. We gotta put a stop to it and there's only one way to do it."

Both men locked eyes. Hutch knew they had no choice. If Susan went free, they'll both have blood on their hands.

"The hitman is probably trying to get out of town." Dobey said, drawing both their attention. "She's not likely to hire someone else to do her dirty work this time. She'll try for you again, Hutch."

Hutch locked eyes with Dobey. "Kira thought she might be murdered. She left that letter as a warning. This whole things been in the works for months, long before Susan said she got here."

Dobey nodded his head.

"I'm betting the killer made her make that phone call," Hutch continued. "And that it was the same man that shot at me. "It would have looked like a robbery. Would have looked like I met Kira in that alley to have sex and a robber surprised us. It sounds like this whole thing is about discrediting me before I died so Starsky would hate me."

"And then Susan would be left to pick up the pieces," Starsky added, distractedly.

Starsky locked eyes with Hutch. "And like Jenny, Susan would have gotten away with murder, only this time, she'll keep killin' because that's her job. I won't go through that again. Got enough blood on my hands to last a lifetime."

"Then," Hutch said, coming to his feet. "We go in."

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

**She's Not There**

**By M. Willow**

_Warning, this chapter contains a scene that is suitable for adults only._

**Chapter Twelve**

The fingerprint results came back shortly before they left the station. There was no connection to any crime, but that only meant that Susan Shepard hadn't left any fingerprints.

Now, Starsky, Hutch and Huggy Bear sat in the tiny apartment above the Pitts making plans. Starsky was leaning against the wall, seemingly lost in thought, while Hutch straddled the chair, looking down at Huggy who was lying on the bed.

"Okay, Huggy," Hutch said. "One more time. How are we doing this?"

Huggy sighed, sitting up, and pushing his legs over the side of the bed. "Man, we've been over this fifty times at least."

"So we're doing it fifty-one times," Hutch said sharply."

"Easy, Blondie," Starsky said. "You gotta excuse, Hutch. He's getting a little skittish."

"Sorry, Hugs." Hutch leaned forward, rubbing the line between his eyes. "Just that. If she finds out…"

They had told Huggy about Susan being a hitwoman. Huggy had heard about the Medusa, knew her reputation, knew that his life could be in jeopardy because he'd also seen her face.

Huggy raised a hand. "Don't have to say it, my blond brother. Here's the plan. There are ten people. One will be a lawn maintenance worker outside your apartment, Starsky. He's the one who will watch where she goes. Depending on her destination, one of ten people will follow her to a point before the next one takes over. Everybody been told about the green eyes. If she changes her appearance in any way, we'll know it and continue to follow her."

"And it's important to never lose contact," Starsky added. "Remember Kira tried to follow her and she was one of the best."

"Man I got everybody except the president watching for her. She can't take two steps before somebody ID's the chick."

"You got the telephone number for all of the booths?" Hutch asked.

The point of contact for the group was the many telephone booths that lined Bay City. If they lost Susan, they were instructed to call the next person along the route. Hopefully that person would be able to find her.

"Yeah, we lose sight, which ain't gonna happen, and somebody calls the next one on the route."

Hutch locked eyes with Starsky. "And we stay out of the way."

"Yeah, and when I go home, I act like nothin' happened."

Hutch nodded his head. "I'll be the one to talk to whomever she meets."

The look in Starsky's eyes didn't need words.

Huggy stood up. "Hey, I'm going downstairs. Need anything else?" He looked from one to the other. Both men shook their heads, then watched as Huggy left the room.

"You okay, Starsk?" Hutch asked once they were alone.

"Not really. It's gonna be hard…being with her, if you know what I mean." Starsky blushed.

"It's going to be over soon."

"Yeah." Was all Starsky managed.

"I still think we should put a bug in your apartment."

"And take the chance she finds it?" Starsky straightened and walked over, taking a seat on the bed. "She's a professional. If she finds the bugs we can forget it. She'll be out of town before we know what hit us."

Hutch nodded his head. "You're right. I don't have to like it, though."

Starsky grabbed his jacket. "Let's get out of here. Soon as this things over, the better. I don't know how long I can keep pretending."

Starsky left Huggy's with the knowledge that they had a plan in motion. Everything was set for morning. He would leave for work and someone would be stationed outside his apartment waiting for her to leave. This person would follow her until someone else took over.

Tonight, he'd been the consummate actor, leaving no clue that he was onto her. They'd had a delicious meal and had gone to bed right away.

Susan had wanted to make love, but Starsky had insisted on talking instead. What happened with Hutch was serious and they needed to figure out what to do next. Susan had listened as Starsky lied.

"He's my best friend, Susan, but I love you more. Let's give him one more try. If it doesn't work, he's out of our lives. We'll go someplace else."

He'd watched her features soften, the edges of doubt easing from her body. But he knew it was all a trick. As long as the blond lived, Susan would feel threatened. He was pushing her to make a move and afraid at the same time.

"I want to invite him over for dinner," she'd said. "Maybe we can make this work."

And Starsky had listened as she enthusiastically made plans for dinner in one week. All the while he hoped it wouldn't come to that. He was setting his best friend up to be murdered. It was a plan hatched by both men, but it was a dangerous plan. Still, it was better than waiting for her to make the next move. The blond would be guarded. It would be near impossible for her to get away with it this time. But then Susan had done the impossible before.

Now, Starsky stared down at the sleeping woman. She slept like an innocent child, her hands curled around his, her face upturned. For a moment she moved and cuddled closer to him. Now her head rested on his chest and he felt the silky locks of her hair. And he remembered Jenny.

They were possibly sisters—so alike, yet different. Both women had killed, but Susan killed for money. Huggy had said that the woman was rich beyond imagination. So Starsky was left with why. Why would a woman with nothing to gain by killing continue to do it as a career? And he found only one answer: she did it for the power. She did it because she loved the reputation she'd acquired. She was the Medusa—a trained killer. The mere name struck horror in people. The killings were legend, but none so much as those victims who'd seen her face.

There were five men, Huggy had said. All of them had wanted to know what she looked like. They had stolen into the Medusa's apartment one night, but none emerged the next day. Instead, they were all found dead, their eyes removed, their faces frozen in unimaginable horror.

No one lived who saw the Medusa.

Susan moved against him and frowned as if she were reading his mind. For an instant, he thought he saw the real woman peeking through. The woman who'd taken lives, who'd done it as if it were a sport, something to practice and be proud of. He wondered if she dreamed of the people she killed. Did it make her smile? Feel powerful? He wondered what it must have been like for those who looked into the golden eyes of death.

--

Huggy stood at the window of his favorite barbershop watching the woman with long red hair walk by. He signaled a woman further up the street. She was a woman who'd fallen on hard times. This woman ambled along the sidewalk, clutching a bottle of whisky to her chest. She asked for money as the red-head disappeared into a restaurant, but the woman shook her head as the door closed behind her.

Twenty minutes later, a woman with two children finished her meal of pancakes and sausage, paid the waitress, and walked out as a blond lady breezed past her. The young mother had to shield her eyes against the sun as she signaled the postman across the street. This man walked slowly behind the blond lady, delivering mail, whistling as he did so. He spoke to the woman with the spectacular green eyes and the blond hair before stopping at a restaurant for cold water. It was a hot day.

And old woman picked up her mail, and cursed because she had received her neighbors' mail two days in a row. She hurried up to the beautiful blond lady who scarcely noticed the old woman. On the way to her neighbor's house, the old woman told the blond lady all about the mail and how she had taken to saving and delivering it herself. The blond lady ignored her, but the old woman was lonely and needed someone to talk to. She kept talking till she reached her destination five blocks down. She scarcely looked up at the window washer who hung haphazardly from the third floor.

The blond lady continued on, passing people who washed cars. She looked back a few times, but never looked up. She didn't see the window washer who looked down on her from the third floor. Nor did she see the signal he gave the cab driver who immediately took off.

The cab driver picked up a middle-aged man wearing a cheap plaid suit and grey shirt. His slick patent leather shoes reflected the sun. This man man jumped out of the cab just as the blond lady headed into another restaurant. He didn't bother to talk to her as he passed the drunk man who sat begging in front of the restaurant.

A brunette with dark skin emerged from the restaurant five minutes later. This woman looked as if she were of Latin origin. The green eyes made her exotic. She wore a sedate brown skirt with a high-button collar. She walked past the drunk man just as the restaurant owner was shoeing him away.

"Drunkards have no business in front my store," the owner shouted.

The woman never looked back as the drunk man followed her for a few blocks, then turned her over to the man in the silver Cadillac.

--

Starsky had only a partial report by the time he arrived home later that night: Susan had gone to a nursing home. Tomorrow morning Hutch had arranged to interview the staff, but for now, Starsky had to pretend that he was happy to be home.

He found her lying in bed, body covered with a thin sheet, but it did nothing to hide her impressive figure. She sat up when she heard him enter, the sheet falling to reveal her naked breast.

"Hi, baby. I'm so glad you're home. I didn't hear you come in," she said.

"Didn't want to wake you." Starsky threw his jacket on the chair. Then he took off his shoulder holster and gun, placing them in the bedside table. Susan had no way of knowing that this was a new habit.

"I couldn't sleep. I worry when you come in late," she pouted.

Starsky wanted to scream. It was just after midnight. Pretty normal hours for a cop, but Susan got nervous if he didn't get home by ten. She was already pushing him to quit the force.

"It's the life of a cop," he said, glancing at her with what he hoped was an affectionate expression. He took a seat on the edge of the bed and removed his shoes.

"I know. Can't wait for you to give all that up. That way you can stay home in bed with me all day long." Susan made her voice sound seductive and she uncovered her body. She wore nothing beneath the sheets.

"Tell me about your day." Susan came up behind him and started to massage his shoulders.

"We caught the robber," He said tiredly. With any luck, she would believe he was tired and leave him alone tonight. And it was true that the robber had been caught. If Susan checked, she would discover that he and Hutch had caught the man coming out of a bedroom window.

Susan unbuttoned his shirt. "I got an idea of how we can celebrate," Susan said, pushing her body against him, her hands sliding over his chest.

Starsky turned around. In the subdued light of the bedroom, Susan's eyes seemed completely golden, her hair a halo of fire. He recalled the myth of Medusa and her head of snakes. And he saw in Susan this ancient monster.

"I'm tired, baby," he said, hoping that would let him off for the night. If anyone had told him he would turn down sex, he would have laughed. She was a beautiful killer, he gave her that, but he didn't want her anywhere near him.

"I can wake you up, lover." She wasn't even pretending to be shy now. She wrapped her arms around his neck and proceeded to nibble on his ear.

"Lie next to me," she whispered. "I promise not to take advantage of you."

Starsky would rather have slept on the sofa or anywhere else. He didn't want to sleep with her ever again. It sickened him to think that he'd once wanted nothing else.

"I'm so tired. Maybe I should sleep on the sofa tonight. Don't think I will make very good company."

Susan stiffened. "Is there a reason you don't want to sleep with me?"

And Starsky knew he had no choice. "Of course not. Just didn't think I would make good company."

"Get in bed, David." Susan demanded her voice low and deadly serious.

Starsky stood up and removed his shirt and then his pants. He climbed into bed and Susan snuggled close in his arms, her head on his chest. The only thing separating them where his shorts, but she made quick use of her hand, removing them, then grasping his flaccid cock.

Starsky's mind shut down. He was repulsed by her and what she was doing to his body was nothing short of rape. But he couldn't stop her. Four women were dead because of him. If he'd listened to Jenny and got help for her, they would still be alive. He hated everything Susan represented, but failure to stop her this time could result in countless loss of lives. Kira was already dead and Hutch was her next intended victim. He had to stop her. He couldn't live with more blood on his hands.

Starsky rested his hand on her arm, felt the strength there and pictured Susan toning her

body to create the killing machine that she was. He shut the idea out of his mind and brought her lips to his for a passionate kiss.

She purred, "Told you I can wake you up."

"Well, you were right." Starsky rolled on top of her, pinning Susan beneath him. He stroked her body with his hands, suckling her breast and continuing down to her center. Susan moaned with pleasure as he made use of his tongue.

"Oh, god," she shouted, bucking her body up to meet him."

Starsky moved back up her body, splattering her with kisses. He reached her lips and slid his tongue inside, deepening the kiss with urgency. The whole time he pictured himself kissing Jenny. It was Jenny's breast he sucked. It was Jenny's sweet nectar on his tongue.

Their lovemaking intensified until they were both bathed in sweat. She was a responsive lover, shouting his name, begging him to take her. And he was lost in Jenny, completely absorbed by her presence. He wanted her so badly that when she took him in her mouth, it was all he could do not to come there and then.

Susan straddled him, and he stared up into the golden depths of hell. "I have something for you, lover," she said breathlessly.

"What is it?" he asked, but he didn't really care. She could have done anything now and he would have allowed it.

"Let's do something naughty," she said, producing a red scarf which she held taut between her hands.

Starsky realized what she meant to do. He imagined Hutch finding him dead, still tied to the bed. His mind raced, seeking a way out of his present predicament. But there was no way out, so he lifted his arms and felt the silken fabric as it surrounded his hands.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

**She's Not There**

**By M. Willow**

**Chapter Thirteen**

The plan went smoothly. Susan had been followed in plain sight, a brilliant plan conceived by Hutch who reasoned she would notice if only one person tried it. Nevertheless, she'd changed disguises, always emerging with the almost transparent green eyes. Hutch reasoned that she stashed a change of clothes in several locations, using them every time she needed to go to the nursing home. Her final change left her a dark-haired Latina. She had gone in this disguise to a nursing home. According to the source that reported back to Huggy, she saw a resident by the name of Magdeline Sweet. Sweetie, as she was called, had been housed in the home for less than six months. She was visited by a woman of Latin origin almost daily.

Hutch had gone to see the woman earlier. Mrs. Sweet had Alzheimer's, but some days were better than others. Sweetie was having a good day when Hutch saw her and she identified her visitor as Susan Roberts, her granddaughter.

The staff knew the dark skinned woman with the light green eyes as Susan Santiago, a woman who spoke broken English. She visited often, saying that she had been paid by members of the family to do so, and that the old woman believed she was her grand-daughter.

"Sad," one staff member said after seeing Hutch's badge. "No one comes except a woman paid to do it."

Hutch later learned that a middle-aged white woman had checked the old woman in the nursing home. This woman had identified herself as Charlotte Sweet, the daughter of the old woman. She had told the staff that she was new in town, and needed a safe place for her mother who was stricken with Alzheimer's. She was never to be seen again, calling only occasionally to check on her mother.

Susan Santiago had appeared one week after Mrs. Sweet had become a resident. All of this occurred six months before Susan entered Starsky's life. There was no doubt in Hutch's mind that the middle-aged white woman, who identified herself as Charlotte Sweet, was Susan. And that the old woman was really named Trudie Alexander, Jenny's grandmother.

At any rate, they had something now. Not enough to charge the Susan, but enough to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Hutch believed the old woman was telling the truth.

Mrs. Sweet told him that Susan was her illegitimate grand-daughter, and that she had been raised in Boston, but safely away from the legitimate daughter, Jenny. She went on to explain that Susan had been her nurse for one year before taking her to live in the Bay City nursing home. Mrs. Sweet was happy to be away from her son and and daughter-in-law, so never questioned why they never visited.

Mrs. Sweet was a kind woman who enjoyed talking about her grand-daughter.

"She's such a nice girl," she had said. "Always has time for me."

And then she told Hutch about how Susan used to sit and read Jenny's diaries to her.

"She reads everything to me but the naughty bits," Sweetie had said laughing softly. Then went on. "When Jenny died, Paul had her things transferred home. I think that's why Susan moved in with us, for the diaries and to see the only thing left of her sister. Paul would never have allowed it had he known."

Hutch found it remarkable that Paul Alexander had hired his own daughter to care for his mother without ever having recognized her. But then Susan was a master of disguise.

That was all Hutch could get out of her before Mrs. Sweet retreated to a world where memories are written on the wind.

Now, Hutch worked in his greenhouse, watering each plant with loving care. Dobey had given them both the day off. If Susan called she would be told they were out on assignment.

Hutch heard a sound behind him and knew his partner was awake. He had hoped that Starsky would sleep longer. The brunet had slept most of the day, scarcely rising except to go to the bathroom and take showers. Starsky had been avoiding him and Hutch knew why.

Hutch had returned home from his interview with Mrs. Sweet and found his partner looking at his body in the mirror. Starsky hadn't been aware of his presence, which was strange since it was a part of their whole sixth sense thing, but Hutch had been shocked to see the marks on his partner's body. There were angry, red marks on his back that looked like they had been made by a whip. They weren't deep, nor were there many of them, but they had to be uncomfortable. Hutch had retreated from the room and made enough noise to warn his partner before returning, but he planned to ask him about them.

"Want some coffee?" Hutch asked as soon as he felt his partner coming up behind him.

"Something stronger would be better," answered Starsky.

Hutch put down the watering can and faced the brunet. Starsky looked drawn and tired. He was skating close to the edge and it showed.

"Stop lookin' at me like that, Blintz."

Hutch came forward and placed a comforting hand on his partner's shoulder. "Just worried. Want to tell me what happened last night?"

Starsky swallowed hard. "What d'ya think happened?"

"Saw the marks."

Starsky dropped his eyes. "Don't want to talk about it. It's personal."

Hutch sighed.

"I wanna beer." The brunet headed for the kitchen, Hutch following.

Five minutes later, both men were seated next to each other on the sofa. Starsky had his head down, twirling the unopened can of beer in his hands, his legs bent and propped on the cocktail table. "I don't know what to do with this, Hutch. It's so hard being with her."

"Want to talk about last night?"

Starsky hesitated and Hutch worried that he wouldn't talk about it, but soon the brunet spoke, his voice low. "Things got a little out of hand when I got home. A little heated if you know what I mean. Ended up with her tying me to the bed…and ah…I allowed it."

He grabbed Starsky's hand, forcing the brunet to look at him. "She could have killed you."

"But she won't, will she?" Starsky said harshly. "She won't because she's in love with me. And I'm some sick bastard that allowed her to tie me down and…and…" Starsky jumped up from the sofa and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Hutch followed quickly, opening the door and finding his partner on the floor, heaving into the toilet. Grabbing a towel, he rinsed it in cold water and placed it over the brunet's forehead. He kneeled down behind the brunet, softly touching his back.

Starsky finished throwing up and fell back against him, allowing the blond to cradle him in his arms. "I'm sick, Hutch. The things we did…"

"Don't, you did it because you felt you didn't have a choice. But it stops now. You're not going back there."

Silence followed, Hutch holding his partner, feeling the tremors of his body. It seemed like time stood still, the two men on the floor, somehow not a part of the world. Hutch wanted to keep things that way; to hold on to the brunet with everything he had and never let go. But then he heard his partner's voice and knew that he could not.

"I gotta go back. We still don't have enough. I gotta go along with whatever she wants or she'll come after you. And we won't know when it'll happen."

"We know about the grandmother. We can put the rest of it together. You're not going back. I'm not going to let you sacrifice yourself like that."

Starsky broke from his embrace and came to his feet. Hutch stood facing him, both locked in a battle of wills.

"We ain't got a choice."

"The choice is we find some other way of catching her."

"And how many will die this time, Hutch? Answer me that. How many will die?"

"I saw what she did to you. I saw your back."

"And I saw the autopsy pictures of Jenny and the other three women. You know what a person looks like who burned to death, Hutch? Ya think it's pretty? Ya think it looks better than my back? You look at my back and see what she did to me. You see the scars, but they ain't nothin' compared to scars on my soul."

Hutch sighed, rubbing the line between his eyes, feeling the lump form in his throat. Starsky went on, his voice softened. "What we got is an old woman with Alzheimer's who claims that Susan is her granddaughter. Now, you and I both know she kidnapped the old woman, but we ain't gonna be able to prove it. It's circumstantial and if we can't prove it, we're gonna watch Susan walk out that door. And I ain't prepared to do that."

Dobey had called Boston the moment he received Hutch's report. The Boston police verified that Mrs. Sweet went missing about six months ago. According to the report, the family thought the old woman had wandered away from the nurse they'd hired. They'd been looking for her ever since, suspecting she was dead.

"I'm willing to bet the nurse was actually Susan," Hutch said. "Maybe they can identify her. Get her on kidnapping charges."

Starsky sighed. "And the parents were probably too busy counting their millions to even look at the nurse. And if they had, what would they have seen? Another phony face?"

Starsky put his hand on Hutch's shoulder. "I've got to go back there and I don't know if I can do it. But I got to."

"You don't, Starsk. We can use what we have. Maybe it'll be enough."

"It's got to be enough. And I'm not leavin' till I'm sure it is." Starsky stuck out his hands. "Look at my hands, Hutch."

Hutch looked down at them and saw nothing.

"You can't see it but there's blood on them. The blood of four women and now Kira. That's five people dead because of me. And you coulda been one of them. Now, I hate everything about her. But I'll hate myself more if I didn't do nothin' to stop her."

"So you allow her to tie you up? You allow her to do…"

"Anything she damn well pleases," Starsky interrupted. "I can put up with whatever she dishes out if it means she gets locked up in the end. I ain't gonna sit here and wait for her to come after you or find some other person to kill."

Both men stood looking at each other. Then Hutch spoke, "Then stay here tonight. One night to get your head on straight. Get some rest. You can tell her you're working overtime. Dobey will back us up."

"Can't. She'll get suspicious and she gets nervous if I'm not home by ten. Says it's because she loves me."

"Aww, buddy."

Starsky rubbed his head. "Think I need another shower, Hutch."

Hutch could see how difficult it was for his partner. All these years he'd carried the death of four women on his conscience, always blaming himself. Now he had a chance to put things right. But nothing could bring those women back to life. Starsky needed to see that. And he also needed to see that there was nothing he could have done differently, even with hindsight.

"Starsky, you did everything you could have done You told the cops, but they wouldn't listen. You called her father, but Jenny escaped. There wasn't a damn thing you could have done to stop what happened. You've got to see that. And you've got to let this guilt go before it destroys you."

Starsky swallowed hard and met his eyes. "I know you're worried about me. And ya got a right to, but I can't let this thing go. I lived with this thing more years than I care to count. And if she walks away and comes after you or somebody else, I don't know if I could go on."

It was an admission that chilled Hutch to the bone and he thought of a thousand things to say, a million words that would mean nothing to the brunet who'd spent years hearing Jenny's screams, blaming himself for her death and the death of the three women.

Hutch reached out and touched his partner's neck, felt the soft curls there, looked into the indigo depths of his eyes. He spoke softly, still wishing he could find the words to keep him there, safe, but there were no words, so he spoke from the heart. "Okay, you go back in there, back to her, but don't you dare let her kill you. You hear me? Don't you dare let her kill you."

Starsky's eyes softened, relating the love they both felt for each other. Hutch felt their connection, strong, unbreakable, a place where words were never needed. So he said nothing more, merely turned and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. On the other side, he leaned against the door, listening to the shower and the cascading water. He imagined his partner standing beneath the warm waterfall, desperately trying to cleanse himself, but Hutch wondered if Starsky would ever feel clean.

--

The next week went by slowly for Starsky. He'd taken a week off work, telling Susan that he wanted to spend more time with her. In reality, he knew he needed to stick close. Hutch was coming over for dinner the next day and both men were fairly certain that she would make her move then.

Starsky despised Susan and everything about her. She had no excuse for being a cold-blooded killer except her own greed. She wanted the money and the power that went with it. She indulged herself in the myth of the Medusa. She enjoyed the name. But he would use his hatred for her to bring her to justice. He was sick to go along with some of the things they did in bed, but it was all payment for his own sin. All the deaths, all on his hands. But no more.

He remembered the last weeks of Jenny's life as he sat at the kitchen table studying her sister. So much alike from the sweep of her brow to the way she held the cup in her hand.

On this particular day they were having dinner in his kitchen. Susan had again changed her hair, wearing it pulled back in a ponytail, the way Jenny used to occasionally wear hers. Starsky allowed himself to go back in time to the morning he realized he was a killer.

He had awakened one morning to find Jenny curled against him. She had been crying.

"I think I did something, "she'd said. "Something bad."

And he'd asked what it was.

"I don't know, but I can't get rid of it. I can't get rid of the blood." And then she'd dissolved into deep sobs. Sobs that cut through him like a knife. A girl was dead and it was his fault for not seeing how sick Jenny truly was. That was the day Starsky called her father.

Now Starsky stared at her sister. Saw the similarities, the mannerisms that were unquestionably Jenny's.

"Why do you look at me that way," Susan asked.

"How am I looking at you?" he asked, chiding himself for being so transparent.

"I don't know. Almost as if you're saying goodbye."

He laughed. "Course not. You and me are stickin' together like glue. We're not leaving this apartment for nothin'."

Susan got up and came to him, kissing him soundly on the lips and he didn't flinch. Instead he stood, lifting her from the floor. Right now he needed to be with Jenny. He needed to feel her body beneath his, taste her sweet nectar one last time. He needed to fill himself with her spirit, lose himself in insanity. They would make love on his terms this time. He would put away the past, the guilt, the blood, and he would give himself to the union of love. Tomorrow he would sign her sister's death warrant, but for now there was only Jenny.

--

It had been a little over a week since Kira died and things couldn't be better for Susan. She had been right to stay. Starsky was wrapped around her finger. He would give up anything to have her in his life. And their lovemaking showed how much he loved her.

Susan remembered last night, the way he'd been, the way they'd made love until the sun slanted in through the windows. There was nothing perverted about what happened between them. None of her usual assortments of whips and chains needed. But she'd been loved. For the first time in her life she'd been loved. She recalled every tender moment. Every kiss an admission of love. How had she gone so long without it?

Sex for her had always been about domination. The thrill of bodies coming together merely a biological release, but now, she knew what making love was about. He'd taken her virginity.

Susan stirred a pot of soup, adding onion and garlic to the mix. Ken was coming over for dinner and she was preparing a delicious meal. Afterwards, she had plans to put suspicion into her lovers mind. She almost regretted what she had to do, but Hutch still needed to die.

Tonight she would be Candy, a persona she put on with men who were somewhat impervious to her usual seduction techniques. She would send Starsky out to get some beer from the store and make her move on the big blond. Then she would make sure Starsky knew about it and he would get rid of Ken. Later she would give Starsky something to make him sleep, then she would pay a visit to the bothersome blond. It would look like a suicide. A lover scorned because the man he loved didn't feel the same way. It was an ingenious plot to build on the rumors that were already going around about the two. Susan knew the rumors were false, but they served her purpose.

"Hutch will be here any minute," Starsky said as he entered the kitchen, freshly shaved and wearing tight jeans and a white shirt.

"Almost done," she said. "I just hope he likes what I cooked." She made her voice sound small, almost timid. She looked shyly at the curly haired detective, practically batting her eyelashes. He came over, taking both her hands.

"Hutch will love it. You'll see."

Susan had stopped off and purchased health food from the local restaurant. She'd ordered Hutch's favorite, clearly aware that he would recognize the flavor. She had dished it into pans to make it look like she had cooked it from scratch. Then she had thrown away the evidence. Starsky believed that she'd spent the whole day cooking. In reality she had only prepared his meal.

"I sure hope he likes me," she said softly.

"He will. Just give it a try and remember you're number one in my life. He's out of here if he don't understand that."

Susan thought of the day her dog died and managed to create tears. Her body shook just a little.

"Don't, baby," Starsky said, wiping her tears away.

"It's just that I love you so much. I know what he means to you. I don't want to drive a wedge between you two." She watched the play of emotions cross his face. "I want him to be part of our lives. And he hates me."

"Just give it time. He'll see you the way I do. He's just protective of me. A pretty good trait in our line of work." His voice was whisper soft.

She turned her back and opened the oven door. She was wearing a short red skirt, so she could imagine the reaction it was having on the man so close to her that she could practically feel him pressed against her. She wanted him now, in the kitchen, in full daylight, with the windows open, but the doorbell sounded and he left her to answer it.

Susan pulled out a small bottle from her pocket. Things were going well, indeed.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

**She's Not There**

**By M. Willow**

**Chapter Fourteen**

The dinner was familiar. Hutch knew the restaurant. Had been there often. He knew Susan had done it deliberately. Still, the fetching redhead had claimed to have cooked every morsel.

"I hope you like it," she said as she spooned heaping spoonfuls of the mashed potatoes on his plate. "It took hours to make. I'm not a vegetarian myself so I have no idea if it taste good."

Starsky, Susan and Hutch were sitting at the kitchen table in Starsky's apartment pretending to enjoy the meal. In reality, they were waiting for Susan to try and kill Hutch.

He took a bite. "It's perfect," he said tightly.

She smiled as Starsky went through a list of the strange foods the blond put into his body. Hutch watched the interplay between the two.

Starsky was sitting next to Susan, his hand touching hers. He was playing it for all it was worth, acting like the loving, attentive boyfriend. If Hutch hadn't known him well, he would have sworn the brunet was actually in love with Susan, but he did know him. Starsky was pretending that Susan was really Jenny. It was the only way he could get through it.

Hutch pretended to be in good spirits, laughing often, eating the familiar food as if it had been prepared by a master chef. But he had every reason to be in good spirits. Before he had arrived, Huggy had called with information on a certain middle aged man who recently sought the help of a close friend of his. This man had been shot in his right arm and needed the doctor to patch him up. Said doctor owed the tall barkeeper a favor and had let him know about the man described as grey haired with intense grey eyes. A man who called himself Johnny. The doctor had visited him several times at his room in a seedy hotel. He'd given the man some highly potent pain killers and the man had babbled endlessly about killing a woman cop. The doctor had heard that Huggy was looking for information and called him.

Huggy was very glad to turn the information over to Hutch who made a stop at the hotel to arrest the man while his partner took a day off to watch Susan.

Picking up the man had been relatively easy, since he had been pretty delirious, and unable to fight. After the grey haired man had been cleaned up, he'd been lucid enough to confess his whole part in the scheme to kill Hutch. He told him about Kira and how he had kidnapped and forced her to call Hutch. He'd even admitted to telling Kira all about who'd set her up.

The man had said his name was actually Carlton Thomas, although Hutch suspected the name was really an alias. At any rate, Carlton had been very frightened, demanding that Hutch lock him up and throw away the key. He was nearly hyperventilating as he begged Hutch to save him from Medusa.

"You got to protect me," the man had pleaded. "She'll get to me somehow. She wants to kill me because I messed up."

And Hutch had watched the tall, muscular man, break down into a whimpering mass of fear.

Carlton had never seen Susan's face, nor did he want to see it. "You should have seen those five guys," he'd said. "She cut out their eyes and carved Medusa on their stomachs."

Then Carlton had begged to be locked up in a maximum security prison where he at least had a chance to live.

"I killed a woman and a maid back in Boston," he had admitted in his thick New York accent. Two people that Medusa hired me to off. That's got to be worth a lot of prison time. Put me in a maximum security facility where she can't get at me. I rather be locked up then dead by her hands."

Carlton had then given details about coming into the house and finding the two women in the living room. He shot both point blank then left them dead on the floor. He didn't know why Susan had ordered the hits, but felt it had to be personal or she would have done it herself instead of paying him to do it.

"Cops never found them," he'd said. "Really bugged me about that."

And Hutch had recalled the lie Susan originally told. When she'd first arrived, Susan had claimed that her only relative had been an aunt who'd recently died. She also said that her sister was deceased, but later explained that she was an only child who'd learned to think of the aunt's daughter as her sister. But as Hutch had listened to Carlton's confession, he'd realized that she most likely had lived with her aunt and the sister was really Jenny. Mrs. Sweet had confirmed this theory by saying that Susan didn't live with Jenny. And that she'd been sent to live in a different part of Boston, safely away from the legitimate daughter.

Johnny had also mentioned a bag lady and told him that Medusa had most likely killed her for the clothes the woman wore. Hutch remembered hearing about a bag lady found strangled in an alley a little over a week ago. Still, the information wasn't enough. Susan had left no clues. So, now he was sitting in his partner's apartment, listening to murderess prattle on about food and how she prepared it.

Hutch shoved mouthfuls of food into his mouth, chewing cheerfully, the thought that it may be poisonous nagging at him. But they had to make it look good. And poison wasn't part of her M.O. No, when she came after him, it would be when he was alone.

Susan was dipping heaping loads of his favorite ice cream into bowls. Honestly, Hutch didn't want it. He ate slowly, then pushed the bowl to the side. "That was delicious; Susan, but I can't eat another bite."

Then they retired to the living room where Susan supplied him with a can of beer and an empty glass. The beer can was unopened. He put the glass on the table and opened the can, swigging the amber liquid gratefully. He didn't bother to use the glass.

"Susan likes to build model planes like me, Hutch," The brunet said, pretending to be proud of her accomplishment. Hutch was reading his partner's eyes, listening to the conversation just beneath the words, silently communicating their day without a single word being exchanged between them.

Without words, Hutch told him he had a breakthrough and Starsky told him that everything was going as planned.

The evening went by quickly, conversation flowing with ease. Susan was a consummate actress, joining in on the light banter between the partners, never knowing they were talking to each other between words. Even Kira didn't know that about them. She'd probably provided a detailed report, but she'd mostly seen them separately, and when they had been butting heads. She'd never been around when they were functioning as a cohesive unit.

Starsky raised an eyebrow at one point and Hutch signaled he was alright with one look. Both men had been worried about the possibility of drugs.

Then Susan brought another beer which Hutch drank slowly. And then, she made her move.

She was sitting on the sofa. Every now and then, she would open her legs a tiny bit. Since Hutch was sitting directly across from her, he could see she wore no panties.

"David," she purred. "We got anymore beer in the fridge? Hutch needs another one."

Hutch wanted to decline. He'd just finished his third beer and wanted to remain alert, but he knew this was a pivotal moment. She needed to know that they were not suspicious of her, so he nodded his head, requesting another beer.

"Starsky shot him a look, then rose from the sofa. "I'll get it."

But his partner returned shortly. "Nothin' in the fridge. I'll have to go out and get some more." Starsky looked at him levelly, the eyes saying this is it. Then he went into the bedroom and came back with his jacket on. He gave Hutch one more look, then opened the door and headed out. And Hutch watched her change.

First came the cat-like smile. Then she moved her legs further apart, pushing her chest out, displaying full cleavage in the low-cut red blouse. "Alone at last. Tell me you don't want me."

He couldn't believe she was trying to seduce him. He'd expected any number of things from her, but not this. She had to know it wouldn't work on him. "I don't want you," he said simply.

"I thought so."

Hutch heard the engine start and Starsky's car driving away. He spoke quickly, "I agreed to be here to give you another chance. Are you trying to seduce me?"

"Thought it might be fun, but I really didn't think my little seduction would work."

Hutch shrugged.

Susan stood up and started unbuttoning her blouse. "You know, if it hadn't been for David, I might have gone for you in a big way. All that blond hair. I bet you're blond all over."

She started walking toward him and he stood quickly. He thought of reaching for his gun, but she was hardly a threat. She was a small in comparison to him. Nevertheless, he remained guarded.

"I would advise you to stay where you are," Hutch warned, backing away from her. "You know, it doesn't have to be this way. Why do you hate me so much?"

"Because he loves you so much."

"I'm no threat to you."

"But you are. I see the way he looks at you. The way you look at him."

"You're not suggesting we're lovers?"

"Of course not. I know him better than that." Her voice was devoid of emotions. She was reciting facts. Nothing else.

She slowly slipped off the blouse. "Are you sure you don't want me?"

"Lady, I wouldn't touch you for anything."

"That's too bad. If you had, it would have saved me from having to set you up. In either case, you're done for. You see, he wants me. He loves me and he doesn't trust you anymore. He's mine now."

Susan dropped the blouse to the floor and started on the skirt, slowly inching it down over her hips. He wasn't in the least bit turned on.

"Who do you think you are?" he asked.

"I'm your worse nightmare, Kenneth," she said, her voice low, seductive. "I'm the devil. I'm the woman who haunts your nightmares. On your death bed I'm the last face you'll see."

"Is that a threat?"

"I don't make threats, Kenneth. I think you know that about me already."

"You won't get away with it. You kill a cop, everybody will come after you."

"Kenneth, Kenneth, Kenneth," she said mockingly, letting the skirt fall to the floor. "Why do you always think I want you dead? Maybe I just want you in my bed."

Now it was clear. Susan intended to make it look like they'd had sex. Most likely nonconsensual.

"He won't believe this crap," he said. "He'll know it's a set-up."

"Is it?" Hutch noticed her voice had deepened. "I guess fucking that little blonde detective made David trust you. What do you think would happen if you did it again? He'll never forgive you this time."

Now she wore only the bra and stood there as if it were normal. She had to see her little plan wasn't working, yet she continued with her little seduction.

"You manipulated me into your bed, Kenneth," Susan said slowly, touching her breast through the nearly see-through black bra. "You see, I'm a willing participant because I'm weak. I do what people tell me. And you took advantage of poor little Susan."

He wanted to arrest her there and then, but he still didn't have enough. Worse yet, she was standing there, nearly nude. What kind of arrest could he get out of that?

Hutch made his voice cold when he spoke. "He'll never believe you. He'll throw you out on your sweet little ass."

"Mmm. I don't think so. You see he loves me. Loves what I do to him. He doesn't need you anymore. He'll believe what he sees."

Susan fingered the lace on the bra seductively, then she reached behind her back and Hutch prepared to see the bra come off next. He didn't see her real intentions until it was too late. She moved quickly, almost in a flash. He saw the tiny spray bottle and then the burning sensation followed. He dropped to the floor, gasping for breath, his eyes feeling like they were on fire.

Reaching into his jacket for his gun, he felt surprisingly strong hands clamp down on his, but he manage to reach his weapon and held firm. All the while his eyes burned as if acid had been thrown into them. Susan grabbed his hand, her sharp teeth biting through flesh. He slammed his arm backwards and sent her spiraling, the gun slipping from his hand. In seconds she was on him again, slapping his face, biting his arm, using her whole body to attack him. It was like fighting a tiger.

They rolled across the floor, Hutch blindly searching for the gun. And then he felt hot pain slash through him as her knee slammed into his groin. Time seemed to stand still as he lay on the floor, curled in a ball, gasping for breath. The pain was excruciating, immobilizing him in spite of the danger. And a spilt second later her foot slammed into his groin yet again. He writhed in unimaginable pain, unable to speak. He forced his eyes open, saw through the searing fire as she casually walked over and picked something up off the floor. He realized with growing dread that it had to be the gun. He knew he needed to get up before she got a shot off. .

Hutch moaned as he moved, dragging himself to the sofa, trying in vain to pull himself from the floor, hot pain searing through his groin and eyes. Then she was standing there.

"I've got something for you," Susan said, her voice childlike.

And then she grabbed him by the hair, pulling his head back painfully. Hutch felt something sharp plunge into his upper arm then she let him go and stood back watching. In seconds the room seemed to sway and he fell back to the floor. He looked up and saw her standing completely nude, gun in her hand. He could only imagine what she would do next.

Now, his only hope was that somehow his partner had heard the commotion. He knew the dark-haired detective hadn't really gone to the store. He pictured him outside, looking up at the window, waiting for a sign that something was wrong. But he knew the struggle hadn't been loud enough for Starsky to hear. And if he shouted out for him, she might decide to kill them both. He was at the mercy of Susan now. He had only one recourse.

"Don't hurt Starsky," he murmured.

"Don't worry about that. I love him. It's you I want to hurt."

And then Hutch plunged into darkness.

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

**She's Not There**

**By M. Willow**

**Chapter Fifteen**

Starsky sat in his car watching Huggy walk away. He'd had the slim barkeeper bring a case of beer so he could return to his apartment and pretend he'd actually gone to the store. In reality he'd moved his car a few blocks down and had been sitting there all that time. It had been the longest half hour of his life. He didn't seriously believe Susan would try and kill Hutch in his own apartment, and his partner was hardly helpless, but she was a professional killer. And Hutch was alone with her now. It didn't matter that several cops were stationed nearby. He wanted to be there.

There were three cops stationed around Hutch's apartment too: two in the building across the street and one man who was hiding in a small utility room right off from the entrance to Hutch's apartment. They were there because both he and his partner had a strong feeling that Susan was going to try and kill Hutch tonight. He'd seen it in her eyes, her overwhelming hatred for the blond growing stronger with each passing day.

Starsky stared up at the moon. It was nearly ten o'clock and the moon was full and golden, casting shadows on the tree-lined streets. Starsky enjoyed living in this part of town because it was in stark contrast to the mean streets he patrolled on a daily basis. But now he saw only danger, every sound amplified every sight a precursor to death. Susan, in her short time with him had transformed his life, turning it into one out of control ride into terror.

Starsky turned the key in the ignition, pulling out into the streets. It didn't take long to find himself in front of his apartment. He scanned the streets, seeing neither person nor animal, the cops well hidden from view. Huggy had parked his car on the other side of the street and was no doubt hiding someplace, waiting for Hutch to come out. In the few short years Starsky had known the man he'd become one of their closest friends, willing to risk his life for either he or Hutch. It warmed his heart to know he had someone else out there who was concerned for his best friend.

Starsky slid out of the car, taking the beer with him. He climbed the stairs to his apartment feeling like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Standing at the door, he pasted on a smile and prepared himself for his role as a happy man in love. Then he took a deep breath and used his key to open the door.

"Hutch. Susan," he called out, sitting the beer on the end table. But he was greeted with silence and he was alone. He let his eyes take in the condition of the room. No sign of struggle. Every item where it should be. No smell of blood.

Starsky eyed the door to his bedroom. It was closed now, but he had left it open. He imagined Hutch in there lying dead in a pool of blood, a bullet to his skull, his eyes open in accusation. He erased the image from his mind, drew his gun, and took the longest walk of his life. As he neared the door he heard a sound, slight, and whimpering. A woman's cries. Again the images returned, but he pushed them away and cocked his gun.

Starsky pushed his body against the wall next to his bedroom door. He looked to the opposite side almost expecting to see Hutch standing there poised and ready for action, but this time he was alone, so he steadied his nerves, crouched low, and crashed through the door. What he saw took his breath away. He had imagined a million possibilities, but not this. Susan was sitting up in bed, her hair mused, dark mascara running down her tear-stained face, sheet clutched to her chest. And the man lying next to her, tall, blond, nude, Hutch.

Starsky put the gun away, walked a million miles more; saw the steady rise and fall of his partner's chest. He was alive. The rest was easy to figure out. Somehow Susan had gotten Hutch in bed and there was only one way to do that: she had given him drugs. But when? He'd only been gone a half hour.

"What the hell is going on here?" he said, aware that his reactions could mean life or death for countless people in the future.

"I didn't know what to do," Susan said. "I'm sorry. So sorry. I didn't know what to do."

She clutched the covers closer to her chest, fresh tears falling down her face. "He said that I had to do it or he would take you away from me. I didn't know what else to do. I didn't want to lose you."

Starsky walked over to the bed and saw the scratches on his partner's body. Hutch opened his eyes and looked into his, complete incomprehension on his face. And his eyes were bloodshot. Hutch rubbed his eyes then looked down at his body. He slid carefully out of the bed and picked up his clothes from the floor. He seemed unsteady on his feet as he dressed and he never took his eyes away from Susan.

Susan sat rocking back and forth, her eyes glazed as if in shock. The whole thing was surreal.

"I asked, what the hell is going on here?" Starsky made himself sound angry, but his only anger was directed at Susan.

Hutch had finished dressing, but he kept rubbing his eyes and he still hadn't said anything. And Susan was acting as if she were frightened every time Hutch looked her way. Anyone who saw her like that would think she was a rape victim.

"Starsk, it's not what it looks like," Hutch said.

"He told me that I had to sleep with him or he would break us up," Susan said quickly. "I told him I didn't want to do it, but he kept threatening me, so I said okay."

"You saying he raped you?"

Susan's whole body shook. "Yes…I mean no. I did it because I was afraid he would break us up. He didn't really force me."

"But he threatened you?"

"I guess so." More sobs followed.

"Hutch?" Starsky said, looking to the blond for an explanation.

Hutch rubbed his eyes. "I…I don't know what happened. She must have given me something." He looked over at Susan as if he expected her to provide the information, then turned back to Starsky.

Hutch seemed dazed, like he was still under the influence of the drug. Starsky didn't know what Susan had given him, but figured it had to be something to knock the blond out. Thankfully it hadn't been heroin. He didn't want to consider what that would have done to Hutch.

"Hutch tell me what happened," he said gently, but he made his face hard.

Hutch took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "We were in the living room and she took off her clothes…"

"He's lying. He told me to get undressed."

Hutch continued on. "I told her I didn't want her. And she…she…put something in my eyes."

"He's lying. I didn't do anything. Why would I do that?"

"Tell me the rest, Hutch."

"She got angry. Attacked me. She gave me a shot of something. Then I woke up and you were here."

"He's lying. I'm way too small and weak to do anything to him. Look how big he is. And he has a gun." Susan started trembling, looking at Hutch as if she expected him to attack her. "He told me I sleep with him or else. I said okay and he told me to take off my clothes." Susan wiped her eyes. "We came in the bedroom and…and I changed my mind. That's when I scratched at him."

Starsky couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was obvious that Susan was lying, but only because he knew Hutch well enough to know he wouldn't do anything like that. But there wasn't a jury in the land that wouldn't believe her. Hutch was a decorated detective, had taken down the toughest criminals. Susan barely reached his shoulders, was soft and feminine looking. A damsel in distress. They were in big trouble.

Starsky kept his voice steady. "And then he raped you?"

"No. I went along with it. I did what he asked. And then you came home. I think he wanted you to see us together so he could hurt you." This was punctuated by more sobs.

Starsky was about to call the whole thing off. He would arrest Susan and take the chance they had enough. Then he could get Hutch to the doctor and make sure he was okay. But the instant he reached for his gun, he found his partner's hand on his arm and they locked eyes. It was only for an instant and Susan wouldn't have noticed, but Starsky heard the silent words spoken by Hutch. They had to go on. God help them, they had to go on.

Starsky let his mind wander back. Back to a time when he'd walked in on Hutch with Kira. He needed to remember the way he felt when he saw his partner walking out of Kira's bedroom. He needed to feel the rage again, the anger, the sadness of loss. He needed to feel these things to make it real. He only hoped his partner could forgive him for what he had to do next.

"Why d'ya do it, Hutch?"

"You don't understand. She gave me something. Susan drugged me."

"You expect me to believe that crap?" Starsky yelled. "Ya think I'm stupid?" He shook his head. "Yeah, I'm stupid alright. I'm stupid for trusting you again. I'm stupid for forgiving you after all that shit you pulled with Kira. Well, no more because David Starsky got some sense this time. He knows a snake when he sees one."

"You know me. I wouldn't do this."

Starsky jerked his arm away from Hutch. He balled his hands into fist and went for the kill. "Heard it before. What, you can't get your own girl? You gotta keep comin' after mine. Is that it?" With only the briefest warning he shoved the blond backwards. It wasn't a hard shove, but enough to be convincing. Hutch carried out the rest, by falling backwards, bracing himself slightly before hitting the floor. It was a trick they'd learned a few years ago when they'd pretended to be stunt men.

Starsky reached down and grabbed Hutch by the collar, literally pulling him up from the floor. He stared him in the eyes. "You're a sick bastard. You know that? Sick."

Hutch knocked his hand away, a momentary flicker crossing his features giving him the okay to play it for all it was worth. They were going to take this all the way.

Starsky pulled his arm back sharply and slammed his fist into the left side of the blond's head. And Hutch countered by snapping his head to the right, making it seem like he'd been hit hard. In actuality, Starsky's fist barely made contact, only enough to create the sound of someone being hit, but from Susan's angle the punch would seem hard and direct.

Hutch wiped his face as if there were blood there, then came at Starsky in a rush, knocking them into the next room. Both men fell to the floor, struggling against each other, throwing fake punches, shouting obscenities. Starsky noticed that Susan hadn't even bothered to come out of the bedroom. He whispered quickly, "You okay?"

"Fine. Let's keep going with this. Do what you have to do."

Starsky knocked the blond back into the bedroom, and Hutch landed on his back, gasping for breath like the air had been knocked out of him.

"Why, Hutch," he shouted, glaring down at him. "Ya hate me that much? How could you do this to me again? Ya get off on hurtin' me?"

"I didn't….I don't know what happened," he said pitifully "She gave me something."

Hutch came to his feet, watching Starsky warily as if expecting to be hit again. "I told you she gave me something. Now, you gonna take her word over mine?"

"Hutch, ya could have had a million girls. Why'dya do something like that to Susan? To my girl?"

"But I didn't do this. She…she." Hutch grabbed him by the arm. "You know me better than that. I wouldn't sleep with someone you love."

Starsky hated what he had to say next. "Why not, Hutch. You did it before."

Hutch stood stunned, dropping his hand, hurt in his sky-blue eyes. They were acting, but Starsky could see the words hit home. He started to apologize, saw the warning in Hutch's eyes and knew he had to go on. This had to be done for all the victims in Susan's past and all that would follow if they weren't convincing.

"So what's one more, huh? What's one more to the high and mighty Hutchinson?" Starsky said the words as if they were poison on his lips.

Hutch rubbed the line between his eyes, spoke quietly, "I didn't do it." And then he turned, head down, and walked out of the room. Seconds later Starsky heard the front door close. He turned around and looked at Susan. She had stopped crying and sat staring at him. He walked over, picked up her blouse from the floor and handed it to her.

"Here, put this on."

Susan took it and slide her arms into the sleeves. She was careful to cover herself the entire time. She was mimicking the mannerisms of a rape victim to perfection. "I'm sorry, David. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to lose you."

Starsky sat down and pulled her into his arms. She sobbed uncontrollably against his chest. Starsky could feel her hot tears seeping through his shirt.

"I've lost you," Susan sobbed. "Oh, my god, I've lost you."

Starsky had to remind himself that she was only acting. He wasn't holding a rape victim in his arms; he was holding a monster. She had framed Hutch and done it well. Anyone who saw her now would believe her. They would call for Hutch's blood, stand in the street and demand justice. They would hold her up as a symbol of the injustice against women. And if she were that good in court, she would walk. She wouldn't pay one day for her sins. He needed to make sure that didn't' happen.

"It's my fault, Susan. My fault for not seeing the truth about him. I put you in this position. But no more. Never again."

Susan pulled back. "How could you ever want to look at me again? I'm dirty. Not worthy of you."

He cupped her chin. "Don't say that. I love you. I can only hope you can forgive me for letting him in our lives." The words nearly stuck in his throat.

"Forgive you! How can you ask me that after what I did?"

"You did it because you thought it was the only way. You did it because you love me."

"But I know how much he means to you. I know you love him. And I don't want you to lose that. I don't want to come between you. Maybe there's…"

"You're all I need. And I'm gonna spend the rest of our lives proving it."

Susan kissed the inside of his hand. "Don't you know how much I love you? I would give my life for you. You're everything to me. Everything. I've changed my entire life for you."

A tear ran down her face and he wiped it away with his thumb.

"I love you, Susan." He kissed her tenderly, then held her to his chest.

"We'll always be together," she murmured. "Nothing can come between us now."

Starsky held her close, remembering how he had once cared for her, but now he despised her more than anything in the world.

--

Hutch managed to get home with Huggy's help. They'd taken his car in order to make it convincing to Susan should she look for his car outside Starsky's apartment. The barkeeper had then taken a cab home. He had wanted to stay and make sure Hutch was okay, but the blond knew it was essential that he be alone if he wanted to lure Susan in.

Hutch rubbed his eyes, still feeling the burning sensation of the spray she used on him. He'd thought it was acid at first, but now he realized it was most likely pepper spray or a similar derivative. She must have had the spray bottle hooked to her bra somehow and when she had reached behind her back, she'd actually slipped the tiny bottle into her hand. She was a dirty fighter. He was still feeling the pain in his groin. And he was groggy from the drug she'd given him.

He rubbed his arm, recalling the feel of the needle as she injected him with it. At first he'd been worried that the drug had been heroin, but it seemed that its only affect had been to knock him out. Then she had somehow deposited him in the bed without a stitch of clothes on. She'd even managed to straighten the living room out, then climb back in bed for another Oscar worthy performance. She was definitely bold, almost as if the whole thing had been a challenge. She knew Starsky was coming back any minute, yet still managed to do all that in under a half hour.

It was an ingenious trick, doing a striptease in front of him. He hadn't been turned on, but he would have been lying if he didn't admit that his reflexes had been slowed by her surprising performance. She was good, he'd give her that, which might account for her success as a paid killer. Susan's victims had all been relatively young men. Men more than capable of taking care of themselves. He wondered how many fell for the trick she had pulled tonight.

Hutch turned the lights off in the living room and went into the kitchen to prepare coffee. There were three cops watching his place, but Hutch knew he couldn't depend on them. He needed to be alert, so he made the coffee extra strong.

Once the coffee was ready, Hutch poured the steaming brew into a mug and added a little sugar. He pulled his chair to face the living room, then sat down and took a sip of the coffee. He practically gagged at the bitter taste. It was the worst he'd ever made, but he drank it quickly, mindful of the need to remain alert. Whatever she'd given him had made him lethargic, but the coffee would do the trick. He would be ready for her this time. But he was worried about Starsky. Still, he reasoned that the brunet was safe, at least as long as Susan believed that he was in love with her.

Hutch sighed and finished the rest of the coffee, sitting the cup in front of him. Then he checked his gun and sat it on the table next to the mug. Later he would take the gun and place it in his hand under the table, but for now he felt better with it in view.

After thirty minutes, Hutch started to wonder if she was coming. Maybe he and Starsky had underestimated her and now that Susan was certain that he was out of their lives, maybe she'd decided not to try and kill him. But he dismissed that idea quickly. She was coming; if not now, then later. But he was betting on now.

Hutch started to get tired and his body felt like a lead weight. At one point his eyes had actually closed, but a sudden sound brought them open. Now he stared into the other room. Better get the gun in my hand just in case, he decided. But when he reached for it he found that his hand had gone numb. He couldn't move the other hand either.

He tried again, willing his hand to pick up the gun, but again he met with failure. What's going on? Why can't I move my hands? He tried to stand, but found that he couldn't even do that. And he was having problems keeping his eyes open. Hutch remembered a story from medical school. There was a particular case about a man who'd gone in for a routine operation and had awakened on the table in the middle of surgery. The man had discovered to his horror that he couldn't move, nor could he speak, but he had felt every cut the doctor made. Hutch always remembered that story with horror. Now he was living it.

He tried for the gun again. No use. He remembered the sound that had awakened him and realized it had come from inside of his apartment, which meant he wasn't alone. Susan was there. Waiting. Any second she would make her appearance. The Medusa in all her glory.

Panic rose inside of him. And then he heard the first creak of wood and his blood ran cold. He heard a clicking sound, realized it was the sound of high-heels against the floor. Thought of how silly it was for her to wear them for a murder. But this was Susan. Expect the unexpected.

Click, click.

The footsteps coming closer.

Hutch commanded his feet to move and was rewarded with a slight tremor in his left foot. Still, he couldn't move, yet his eyes remained open, staring into the other room.

Click, click.

Click, click

The sound of death.

The living room was cast in shadow, but a glimmer of moonlight fell across one area of the room. It was there that he saw her. She was dressed entirely in black, the sweater and pants clinging to her curves. She wore a pair of red high heels with the outfit. Hutch knew their only purpose was to terrorize. He sat completely paralyzed as she crossed the room. As she neared, he could see the smile frozen like a corpse on her lips.

He kept his eyes on her as she moved quickly towards him, the click of her heels on the tile floor nearly driving him mad. And then she leaned down, her hot breath on his face. He looked into the golden depths of her eyes and recalled her earlier warning that hers would be the last face he would ever see.

"I've come for you, Kenneth. Welcome to hell." And then she laughed.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

**She's Not There**

**By M. Willow**

**Chapter Sixteen**

The acrid taste of blood, the steady pounding in his head, the excruciating journey up the hill. It was a monumental task and his body screamed with every agonizing movement. Starsky pushed his hand into the dirt and pulled himself up another inch or two. Then he did the same thing again until his feet touched solid ground.

He tasted dirt as he lay on the ground and then he crawled to reach the road. Coming to his feet, he leaned against a tree and looked into the dark abyss. He needed to reach Hutch. Needed to protect him from the monster that was on her way. He stared up at the night sky and said a silent prayer. And he remembered how it all started.

"_We'll always be together," she murmured. "Nothing can come between us now."_

_Starsky held her close, remembering how he had once cared for her, but now he despised her more than anything in the world._

_Susan pulled back, wiped her face. "Think you can bring the wine. It's in the refrigerator. I had planned to offer Hutch some, but…"_

"_I'll get it." He said quickly, rising from the bed. Then he turned and left._

_Starsky found the wine uncorked and sitting in the refrigerator. Judging by what had happened to Hutch, he figured it had been drugged. He reasoned that she would have used a needle on Hutch. No way would the blond drink anything around her after he had gone to the store. Starsky was betting that the blond was knocked out cold from her little concoction. And that she had probable did something similar to the wine. But he had no plans of drinking it with her. Now, the tricky part was getting rid of it without arousing her suspicions. _

_He could dump it; replace it with another bottle of wine. She wouldn't know that he had done that. But maybe dumping the wine into the sink and pouring new wine was a better idea. Susan could have easily marked the bottle, something small, unnoticeable. _

_He examined the bottle, letting his hand glide over its smoothness. It was red wine and the bottle was dark, but he could find no distinguishing characteristics. And he didn't smell anything unusual either. She'd probably used something tasteless, too, he reasoned. _

_Susan was formidable, capable of anything, her meek appearance none withstanding. He'd been stupid to let her go on. He should have arrested her a long time ago, taken his chances that they had enough. Hutch had been right on that account. But, instead of listening to his partner, he'd gone on, wanting irrefutable proof. Jenny had gotten away from her father. Had killed people, and he had been so determined to make sure it didn't happen again, that he'd thrown caution to the wind. Had let Susan set Hutch up. And even after he knew what she was up to, he'd still been willing to go on. Opportunity had knocked and he hadn't opened the door. And Hutch had gone along because he loved him that much._

_Of course, Starsky had lied to himself. Tonight he'd convinced himself that he was afraid Hutch would get hurt in the crossfire. He'd believed that Susan could possibly have had a gun under the covers. And that Hutch's reflexes were too slow from the drugs she'd given him to get out of the way. But the fact was that Hutch had recovered well enough to move out of the way. And Starsky knew he could have made sure his partner was safe. So now he was standing in the kitchen, sniffing a bottle of wine. And Hutch was waiting at home in the hopes that Susan would come after him and Starsky would finally have his proof. _

_His decision made, Starsky grabbed two glasses from the cabinet and headed to the bedroom. He found Susan sitting up in bed, looking quite calm. Almost as if she'd forgotten anything had happened to her. Of course, it was just another facet of her warped personality. With her, everything was an act. _

"_This will make you relax," he said, handing her a glass and pouring for both of them. _

"_I hope so. I'm so nervous. I feel like a caged beast."_

_Look like one too, he thought. _

"_I'm sorry, Susan. You have no idea how sorry I am." Starsky sat down. He noticed that she'd only taken a small sip of the wine and had sat it on the nightstand next to the bed. He looked at the other nightstand and the plant that sat on top of it. It was to the left of them, so in order to reach it, he would have to somehow lean into her and there was only one way of doing that. _

_Susan touched his face and Starsky kissed her deeply. He still held the glass in his left hand, so he carefully pushed her back, just enough to reach the plant, then he dumped the contents of his glass as she moaned into his mouth. Starsky broke the kiss and took the almost empty glass, covering its contents with his hand. He put it to his mouth and made of show of drinking the entire glass. In reality, he'd only taken a sip, but it was just enough to leave its scent on his breath. _

"_Come lie next to me," she said._

_Starsky took off his shoes, and lay back on the bed. Susan was in his arms the minute he settled. She snuggled against him, her warm breath on his neck. He knew what was expected. He let his body relax, then pretended to fall asleep almost immediately. She was up right away, drawers and suitcases opening and closing. He sneaked a peak at one point. Saw that she was dressed in a skin tight black pants outfit with ruby red shoes. She looked like a hooker. He closed his eyes and waited for her to leave. A few minutes later he heard the front door closing, followed by an engine starting. He put on his shoes and raced out the door._

_A young officer was waiting for Starsky when he emerged from his apartment. "Here's the keys," the young blond cop said as he handed them to him. "Saw her drive straight down this street and turn right a few blocks up. There's another officer up there so he'll watch where she goes until you catch up."_

_There were several officers in the vicinity, all waiting to see where she went, but it was Starsky who would do the following. The rest where there only to keep her in constant sight._

_Starsky jumped in the car, inserting the key and revving the engine. "What's she drivin'?" he asked._

"_A cherry red 1974 convertible Mustang. Chick's got nerves." The blond cop looked impressed._

_Starsky gave him a withering look then slammed the door and took off at a quick pace. Susan was a few blocks ahead of him, but it wasn't difficult to spot the obvious car. He wondered what her game was this time. Why would she drive such a striking car? But he guessed it was no more ridiculous than the stripped tomato he drove. This time, however, he'd left his car at home and was driving the police issued black Ford Pontiac Sedan. Not his usual taste, but he couldn't very well follow her in his eye-catching car and Hutch's monstrosity would have been recognized. _

_Starsky made a few turns, keeping a good pace with her through crowded streets. She hadn't given any indication that she knew he was there which was making him more than a little nervous. It was just too easy. He even considered that the woman in the car ahead of him might not be Susan. That the red head had somehow found a way to switch cars and was now on her way to Hutch. He looked down at the police radio and disregarded that idea. She'd always been in line of sight. If they had lost touch at any point, the cops would have let him know. _

_Soon it became apparent that she wasn't heading for Hutch's place, however. They were nearing the canyon, the place that Hutch had nearly lost his life when he was ambushed and sent spiraling down the embankment, his legs pinned beneath his car. He'd almost lost his partner that time. _

_Starsky stared ahead. The traffic was thinning, the night becoming darker as they reached the canyon. Now, he understood what was going on. She was checking to make sure she hadn't been tailed. She'd made it easy because she knew if someone had been following, she could easily detect them on the deserted road. Starsky had two choices: He could go back or he could continue to follow her. He decided on the latter, dousing his headlights. The black car and the night sky would almost make him invisible. But he was driving blind and hoping that the moonlight and the occasional street light didn't reveal his presence. _

_Five minutes later, they were still driving at a steady pace and nearing the tunnel. Starsky recalled Hutch driving through it and being forced off the road right after, so he was careful, images of her shooting at him with a rifle. He stretched both hands over the steering wheel and scanned the darkness ahead. He saw her red hair sailing in the breeze, the car moving quickly for its destination. And then it happened. She just stopped the car and sat there. _

_Now, thoughts crashed through his mind. Was she trying to kill herself? Wait for a truck or a car to crash into the back of her car. Or was she lying in wait, waiting to see what he would do. Of course, it was just possible that she still didn't know he was there and had only stopped to see if anyone would speed past her. _

_Starsky pulled over to the shoulder, grateful that the moonlight wasn't so bright as to reveal his presence. There was a large tree there that provided plenty of shade and he was overlooking a straight drop down the embankment. He shivered remembering Hutch down there, but his partner had crashed a few miles up. Still, the area looked the same._

_He scanned the darkness; saw her still sitting in the car. She hadn't even tried to get out of her car to come back and investigate. They were sitting so close at this point that he felt like he could smell her perfume, see her golden eyes, but she hadn't turned around. And then out of the blue, the car was coming at him. She was backing up, going at least thirty miles an hour, tires squealing, and heading straight for him. It had been so sudden that he didn't have time to brace himself. Didn't have time to call out to God for help. Didn't have time to say goodbye to Hutch. He was spiraling down the embankment, the world turning at a dizzying speed. He felt the steering wheel slam into his stomach, pain radiating up his chest. He felt his head hit the front window. He saw the window pane break into a web and still he rolled. Over and over again, a seemingly bottomless pit and then the car stopped and the smell of gasoline filled the night air._

_Starsky looked around him. It was nearly black, but the back of the car was illuminated in flames. He could feel the heat. Knew he was about to die. Both side doors were pushed in, seemingly incapable of opening. Images of Jenny's final moments crashed through his thoughts and he looked to the left side of the door and figured it offered him his best chance of escape. _

_He braced himself against the right side, pulling his legs up, agonizing pain shooting through him. He slammed his feet against the door, knew he'd pulled a muscle and tried again. The door didn't budge, so he slammed his feet over and over again until the door opened and he climbed out, sliding to the ground immediately. He was in agonizing pain and had given all he had to get out of the car. He had nothing left, but the flames of hell called out, licking its way across the car, toward him. It was going to explode and unless he moved out of the way, he was going to die._

_Starsky pushed his way across the dirt, half crawling, but he was still too close to the car. He knew that he didn't have much time. And then he felt hands grab him, pulling him to his feet. _

"_Come on," a voice said._

_They ran for cover, but he couldn't see who was helping him. He fell to the ground, felt the warm body covering him, shielding his body from the cataclysmic power of the explosion. The ground moved beneath him like the whole world was shaking. Then all quieted. He was alive, but who had saved him?_

"_How could you do this to me? How could you follow me like that?"_

_It was Susan. She'd saved his life and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why._

"_Why did you save me?"_

"_Because I love you, you idiot." She kneeled next to him, and fished out his gun, laying it too far away for him to reach. _

"_You got a funny way of showing it, Susan."_

"_I kept feeling like someone was following me, so I stopped my car and waited. Once I saw your black car, I just couldn't stop myself. I was so angry. I just wanted whoever was in that car to die. I didn't know it was you." _

_She sounded angry, but Starsky could see the fear in her eyes. She was actually worried about him. She moved closer, took his head and put it on her lap, gently carding her hand through his soft curls. He looked up at her. _

"_Was all of it a lie, David?"_

_Starsky didn't know how to answer that. He was too injured to fight. Didn't have a gun. And if she got angry, she would kill him and then Hutch. He decided to tell her a half-truth._

"_I wanted to help you. I didn't want you to end up like Jenny."_

_She stiffened. "Then, you know?"_

"_Yes. Wanted to help you. I failed Jenny."_

"_But Jenny loved you. You didn't fail her."  
_

"_I should have gotten her help. Wanted to help you after I found out."_

"_About me being Medusa."_

_It was a statement. And she said it almost as if she were relieved to confess it._

"_Yes. Kira…" he coughed, gasping for breath, Susan stroking his head. "The guy who shot at Hutch told her and she made a death bed confession?"_

"_You're a good cop. Most wouldn't have been able to figure it out." Suddenly, he noticed that she had softened her voice. She sounded innocent, like a little girl. _

_He grabbed her arm, but his grasp had no strength in it. "Let's go away together."_

"_I can't do that. I've got to kill Ken and you won't want me after that."_

_His heart skipped a beat. "You don't have to do this. I love you. He doesn't matter to me anymore."_

"_You've both seen my face."_

"_So you kill me and Hutch?"_

_Susan paused, the fire from the car softening the harshness of her makeup. "I don't want to have to do it, but I can't have you running around telling people who I am."_

"_Susan, you need help. Stay here. Let me help you."_

_She shook her head. "No. Too much is at stake. I can't…"  
_

"_But you don't have to do this."_

_Starsky felt her move and then looked up to see a tiny needle in her hand. _

"_Here," she said, pushing up his sleeve. Starsky tried to struggle, but the world tilted at a strange angle and he realized he didn't have the strength to fight her. He expected the needle would be painful, but it was hardly noticeable. Almost like a mosquito bite._

"_What's in that?"_

"_Something that will keep you from following me. It won't kill you, but it will give me time to decide what to do about you. I might still have to kill you, but maybe I could just go away. Change my appearance. Make sure you couldn't recognize me if you saw me again. But Ken's got to die. I can't have two of you running around. I might have to go after that Bear guy too, but maybe not. He only saw me once and I can't go around killing the whole town."_

_Susan's eyes were wide, a complete disconnection with reality. She was obviously insane and he and Hutch were in big trouble. _

"_I love you," he said, hoping to get through to her. It was a lie, but he was willing to say anything if it meant saving Hutch. "Let me help you."_

"_You should have drunk the wine. It was much better than this place. You could have died if I hadn't risked my life to save you."_

"_I know. And I'm grateful. I know you love me, so let's go away together."_

"_We can't. You would never trust me. I would be like a cat that could turn on you any minute."_

_The effects of the drug started to kick in. It felt like a lead weight had descended on his body, draining his remaining strength, preventing him from moving. "What did you put in that needle?" he asked slowly._

"_Just some tropical drug. It won't hurt you, but you won't be able to move for awhile. If I gave you more you would stop breathing." _

"_Susan, you've got to listen to me." _

_But she moved beneath him and sat his head gently on the ground. "I've got to go now." She stood and looked down at him. The smoking embers from the car cast her in a golden haze and he saw the madness in her eyes._

"_Don't try and look for me. And I'm sorry about making your car go off the road."_

_She turned to go and he decided to try the lie one more time. "Susan, don't leave. I love you. We can go away together. Forget Hutch. Forget everything. Start all over again."_

_Susan turned, facing him. "But that can never be. It's too late for us now. Too late for Jenny."_

_He tried to get up, but his body was incapable of obeying his command. "Susan, don't do this. Don't kill Hutch."_

_Starsky was startled to see tears forming in her eyes. "But I must. I'm the Medusa, don't you see. And it's what I do." And then she turned and left him alone. _

Starsky stood along the deserted road. He figured it had been at least an hour since he'd left his apartment to follow Susan. He'd spent some of that time unable to move, knowing that Hutch might already be dead. It had been one of the most terrifying moments of his life, but it had given him strength to do the impossible, to make his battered body move. The climb up the embankment had been treacherous, and several times he'd lost his footing and had sailed back down to the bottom. He'd started all over again, each time his strength waning, but at each step, he'd held on to the belief that his partner still lived. Now, he stared into the distance and the headlights coming his way. Salvation on wheels.

--

Susan ran her hand over the knife and watched the blond man's face. It had been so easy getting him ready. She remembered the horror on his face when he saw her, the way he just sat there. He'd understood that he had been drugged, but he would have been shocked to discover that it had been given in two doses. The coffee was meant only to make him sleepy, allowing her time to steal into the kitchen while he slept. She'd administered the curare on the tip of a special needle and had retreated from the room without him even noticing. She'd then waited for it to take effect before entering the kitchen again. It was truly a grand entrance and one she wasn't entirely sure would happen. If the blond had decided to forego the coffee, she would have just shot him and have done with it. This way was much better.

Susan had originally had enough of the drug to kill him. He would have lived for about twenty minutes, then his breathing would have stopped. That plan had been changed when she discovered that the man in the black car was David. He'd been following her. Had known who she was and had planned to have her locked up. But she hadn't know until it was too late. Susan had taken the detour through the canyon in order to throw off anyone who may be following her. She always took precautions like that because over confidence could get you killed. She'd stopped in the middle of the road when she thought she'd glimpsed something in her rearview mirror. And then she saw the black car enter the darkness of the trees. She'd gotten angry then, a simmering rage that sent her spiraling backwards into the black car. She'd been lucky that she hadn't fallen over as well, but she had been able to stop her car before that happened. She'd then gotten out and watched the black car as it was consumed by flames. Thankfully, she'd recognized David at the last minute.

Susan looked down at her shoes. They were worn for effect, but the real intention of her hooker outfit was to distract. Anyone who saw her would remember a woman heavily made up and nothing else. In fact, many wouldn't even look at her. They would have passed her on the streets because she was dirty in their eyes. It was truly one of her best disguises, and one that had served her well in the past.

Ken moaned. He was tied to the chair in the kitchen, so she didn't move. He still had his eyes closed, but that would change quickly enough. She wouldn't be disturbed either. She had taken care of all three cops who were watching the building. They never expected her to come in from the other building, but she was an expert climber, capable of moving like a circus performer. The red shoes made it a little tricky, but you couldn't expect everything to be perfect.

Susan held the knife to Ken's throat. She drew blood alone his neck and his eyes shot open. She stepped back, allowing the pleasure of having the blond seep in. "Great. You're finally awake. It's much more fun when you're awake."

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Killing you."

She hated his icy coldness, the way he asked a question with no terror in his voice. Well, she would see to that. She would be damned if he didn't give her a show. She remembered the five men who'd seen her face. Now, that was fun down to the last one. The bag lady had been fun too, but she didn't have enough time to kill her aunt. Johnny had to do that. Well, she would make up for it now.

Susan put the knife to his throat again and watched him squirm. "I got you trussed up like the pig you are. You can't get away."

"You kill a cop and neither will you." He looked at her hard, his eyes unblinking.

"You think someone's going to stop me," she said mockingly. "Well, unless your piggy cops can rise from the grave you don't stand a chance in hell of getting out of this one."

She watched as his face registered surprise. "Yes, they are all dead. You see, the first little piggy squealed out the location of the other two once I showed him what I would cut off if he didn't tell me who else was watching. Of course, he's dead now. Then I climbed out the back window and made my way to that nice building across the street. You'd be surprised how men react when they see a naked lady walking through their door. I shot them both dead without them even putting up a fight. Not a lot of fun, but I wanted to get back to you."

"They're going to toss you in jail and throw away the key."

He was defiant. She hated defiant. She wanted to see fear. Watch him beg for his life. He was too calm and no fun at all. He didn't seem to care what she did to him. But she knew one thing that could change all that. "Oh, and I pushed David's car down an embankment. He's dead now."

And she was rewarded with watching the blond go completely white.

--

Starsky arrived to find the streets roped off and his partner's apartment surrounded by cops. Dobey stood in the center of the group, barking orders. Starsky had called the captain after a truck driver picked him up from the side of the road. He'd been lucky that the man had been on his way into Bay City. Once in the truck, he'd patched through a call on the drivers CB radio and alerted Dobey to his partner's plight. He'd asked that no one go in, but to wait for him to arrive.

Now, Starsky headed over to the captain. His body quivered under the intense pain he was in, but he sucked it up, steeled his face so the captain wouldn't know how bad off he was. He was fueled only by adrenalin and that wouldn't last long, but he knew his partner wouldn't stand a chance if anyone else walked in there. Susan was completely mad. As insane as Jenny had been.

Dobey's eyes perked up when he saw him. "Thank God. "Son, you alright?"

"Fine. Anything on Hutch?"

Dobey shook his head. "We got a SWAT team watching, but we can't see inside, so they're waiting for an opportunity."

"Need a gun," Starsky said.

"Why? You're not going in there."

"I'm the only one that can." Starsky stuck his hand out waiting for the gun.

"No."

"Hutch is in there."

Suddenly the world tilted and he pitched forward. Dobey grabbed his arm, steadying him. "You're not going anywhere but to a hospital. Have you seen yourself?"

"Got an idea of how I look from the truck driver. But I still got to go in there."

Dobey raised his voice. "I got three officers dead. I'm not adding a forth."

"Three?"

"Guy stationed in your building. And two across the street."

Starsky swallowed hard, stood straight, trying to look strong. "That's why I gotta be the one to go in there. Nobody else can."

"Let SWAT do it."

"They ain't gonna get a shot. She ain't that stupid. I gotta be the one to go in."

"You can't go in there, son. She'll kill you."

"And my life ain't worth a nickel if something happens to Hutch."

The two men stared at each other, Dobey's soft brown eyes showing just how much the decision was costing him.

"Go," he said softly, handing him his gun. "But you come back. Both of you. Ya hear?"

But Starsky was already making his way to the building.

Hutch sat quietly. He'd listened to how Susan described pushing his partner off the very embankment that had nearly taken his life two years ago. She'd described how the car exploded and how much she enjoyed listening to his screams as he burned like her sister had.

Now, he sat quietly, incapable of caring about anything. If Starsky was dead he was ready to join him.

"Say something, you stupid fool. I just killed your partner."

Still, he said nothing. If she wanted him to beg for his life, she was sadly mistaken. He didn't care about anything now.

She slapped his face hard and stood back. "You're sick, you know that. You sit there like a zombie. You don't give a shit about your own damn life." She put the knife against his throat, drew blood, then slammed her hand against his stomach and the chair toppled over. He lay on his side, unmoving as if nothing had happened. She kicked his stomach and then she kneeled next to him, pressing the gun to his skull.

"Maybe I should just blow your brains out. What do you think that feels like? Having your brains blown out."

She slammed her hand against his jaw, sending explosions through his head. She was small, but capable of throwing punches like a man.

"Let me tell you how he looked when he swallowed the fire. How he screamed."

"Go to hell," he spat.

"Oh, finally, we're talking." She sat back on her legs and smiled. "First his hair burned off. And then…"

But the rest was cut off because the door slammed open and Starsky stood there. Hutch released a breath and thanked God.

"I'll blow his brains out," Susan shouted, pressing the muzzle tight against his head.

Starsky walked in, sat his gun on the table. Hutch could see that he was injured, barely able to stand on his feet.

"Go back," Susan shouted. "Or I'll kill him now."

Hutch could feel her hands shaking.

"You saved my life. You saved it for a reason," Starsky said.

Hutch struggled with the ropes, cursing himself for not trying to get away earlier. But earlier he thought his partner was dead and he had no reason to live. But now, he needed to do everything in his power to escape because Starsky was walking right into the line of fire. Hutch didn't understand what Starsky meant about Susan saving his life, but he did know that she was mentally unbalanced.

"Just let me go," Hutch said. "You can…"

She slammed the gun against his head and he saw stars.

"Let me handle this, Hutch," Starsky said, locking eyes with him, then pulling them away to look at Susan. .

"Go back," Susan ordered, or I swear I'll shot him and then I'll kill you."

"No you won't. Because the woman that saved me from that burning car wouldn't kill me."

"I don't love you that much. I'll kill you both." She pushed the gun painfully to Hutch's head and he wondered if he would hear the gun fire or if it would just be a quick burst of pain and then nothing.

"I'll do it!"

"I love you, Jenny."

And Hutch felt the gun pull away from his head. He knew what Starsky was doing. He was bringing her back to her roots. Back to Jenny. And if she were unbalanced enough, she would believe it.

"Stop lying," her voice was suddenly low, pitiful. "Please stop lying."

"It's not too late. We can be together. Just you and me."

"But it is. I know that now. It's too late for us. Nothing can wash away the blood. All that blood."

"It's our second chance, Jenny. Our second chance. Don't lets spoil this."

Susan pointed the gun at Starsky, but his partner never stopped moving forward. He was walking directly into the line of fire, but he kept his voice level and very calm, almost as if he were talking to a possible suicide. Hutch only hoped that it would work and that she didn't kill the brunet.

"Forgive me, Jenny. Please forgive me. I couldn't help you then. Allow me to help you now. Don't do this thing."

Hutch could see the gun in her hand wavering, but it was still pointed at his partner

"I forgive you, David. It wasn't your fault."

"Give me the gun, Jenny. Let me help you this time. Please, let me do that for you."

The gun started shaking in her hand. "Oh, God, what have I become? What have they made of me?"

And then Starsky crouched down and took the gun from her hand.

--

Hutch found the diaries at the bottom of Susan's luggage. After they had been copied and processed by the police, Dobey had given a copy to Starsky. Now he read them as he lay in the hospital bed. It had been two weeks of recuperation from the concussion and the damaged to his body. In that time Susan had been hospitalized at San Leone Institute for the Criminally Insane. Pending an investigation by mental health workers, it would become her permanent home. She hadn't spoken since she'd been arrested. She was broken in mind and spirit. Starsky read the diary as the early morning light filtered in through his window and he read about the woman he'd once loved and the insanity that had claimed her life and that of her sister.

The first one was from Jenny. She wrote of the discovery of her half-sister, Susan. Susan had been raised by Jenny's aunt Clara. The woman had been paid by her brother to care for the girl after her mother died in a car accident. She had been instructed to keep the girl away from his family. He had made a mistake, having an affair with a servant, but he would never accept her as a full member of the family.

Jenny's first diary started when she'd been eight. She wrote about poverty and wishing she had pretty yellow dress. The next year she wrote about her father becoming rich beyond imagination. She was so excited to have everything she dreamed of.

Six years later, Jenny talked about discovering a sister. At that time she had been fourteen. She wrote:

_I'm so excited. Last night I heard my parents arguing about my sister. Mom is worried that someone might find out, but dad said she would stay with her mother. He says the scandal could kill our social standing. I don't care. I'm just so happy to have a sister._

What followed was a nightmare. By the time little Susan was ten, she had lost her mother in a car accident. The little girl had no other family, and the father felt some responsibility toward her, so she was sent to live with his sister.

Jenny wrote: _I'm so scared. Insanity runs in the family and auntie is quite mad._

On and on it went, with Jenny wrestling with herself. She loved her father, respected her mother, wanted the glory and money, but she felt some responsibility toward her baby sister. Finally she paid the little girl a visit. She wrote:

"_She looks just like me. Especially the green-golden eyes. We're unmistakable sisters. I'm her big sister. It's my responsibility to take care of her."_

But Jenny was battling her own demons.

"_They locked me up because I'm hearing voices," she wrote. "I guess I'm crazy like auntie."_

And then Starsky had picked up Susan's diary. There were only two, starting at age fourteen, but it chronicled her life of physical and emotional abuse at the hands of her aunt. Susan had lied, making her childhood seem much better. She didn't tell Starsky how the aunt beat her, or how she found solace in retreating into another person.

"_Auntie hates me." She wrote in one. _

And then the decent into hell began.

"_When she calls me names, or beats me, I pretend that I'm not there. That I'm someone else. That I'm Jenny. But sometimes I'm people I make up." _

Between the two diaries, Starsky fitted the pieces together. Susan was even more insane than her sister, an insanity made even worse by her abusive background. She became Jenny for strength. Eventually she lost the ability to know who she really was.

Jenny wrote: _"She seems to be getting lost in me."_

_Susan wrote: Jenny makes me feel strong._

The next pages were filled with Jenny planning to get her sister out, but then she had been locked away, voices screaming in her head. Somehow she made her way to New York and entered Starsky's life.

Jenny wrote: _"Today I met the man I will spend my life with."_

The nurse brought breakfast, but Starsky didn't want any. Later he heard her enter with lunch. Still, he read on.

"_I'm so afraid for Susan, but I dare not go back. They'll lock me up and then what help can I be to he?"_

"_I want to tell David, but I'm afraid he'll send me back."_

"_David promised to never leave me."_

Then the writing became disjointed as her mind deteriorated.

"_David's seeing another woman."_

"_The voices told me to be careful."_

"_I can't stop what's happening to me."_

"_I had to kill that girl because David wanted her."_

"_I want a normal life with David. I want my sister to live with us and have a family."_

But that was never to be, because the voices were getting louder, more demanding. And Starsky had called her father.

Susan only wrote occasionally after her sister died. Two noteworthy entries told of the girl's feelings regarding the death and how much she hated Starsky for causing her sister's death, but in the end her feelings had changed. She realized how much her sister loved him.

"_If only I can find someone to love me that way," Susan wrote._

Starsky read Susan's last diary entry: _Last night I dreamed I was Jenny_.

It was written one year after her sister's death; the same year she had taken the life of her first victim.

Starsky dissolved into tears, feeling the responsibility for so many deaths. What would have happened, if he hadn't called Jenny's father? What would have happened if he had married her and took Susan to live with them?

"Oh, God," he screamed, clutching his arms around his body, tears falling down his face. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and looked up into the blue depths of his partner's eyes.

--

Hutch walked into the room and saw his partner sitting up in bed, the crumpled paper in his hand. He was crying.

It had been a tough two weeks for the brunet. His injuries included three broken ribs, a broken clavicle and a minor concussion. He'd recovered physically, but guilt still marred his soul. He was blaming himself, feeling guilty for not hating Susan for what she'd done. But his partner was a compassionate man. A man who would forgive anything.

Hutch walked over and laid his hand on Starsky's shoulder and the brunet looked up.

"Starsk?"

Starsky wiped the tears from his face and smiled. "You're finally here. I wondered when you were gonna come and get me out of here."

Hutch sat a bag on Starsky's bed. It contained clothing for him to take the brunet home.

"Hope you brought everything, Blondie. Not like last time."

"Don't." Hutch said. "No secrets." He wasn't going to allow his partner to go through this alone. The brunet needed to talk and he needed to recover. Hutch sat down, taking his partner's hand.

Starsky hesitated, then he spoke, "Susan is completely insane and I could have done somethin' about it." And the story followed.

Hutch listened to what happened to Susan: the beatings by the aunt. The isolation. The escape into a world where she no longer existed. In this world she became other people, took on their personas, their lives. And somehow she had learned to kill.

"Not your fault," Hutch murmured, clutching his friends hand tightly. "They were sick: the aunt, Susan, Jenny. All victims of insanity."

"But Jenny could have helped? I could have helped."

"How?"

Starsky stared at him, "If she could have gotten to her sister. If I hadn't called her father."

"If, if…but you don't know that. Starsky, you've got to let go of this. Susan is going to get the help she needs. And it's because of you that she'll get it."

"Why didn't Jenny tell me?" Starsky murmured.

"Because she was afraid. I know something about that."

Starsky wiped his eyes, staring at him for a second, then speaking, "Was it that bad for you?"

"Remind me to tell you of my misspent youth one of these days."

The two men sat in silence, then Starsky spoke, "Hutch, I forgave her. She didn't know what she was doing. She couldn't help what she became. I know that now. You think I'm wrong, don't you?"

And Hutch recalled the time his partner forgave the man who'd killed Helen. He'd even risked his life trying to save the man. Now, he looked at the pain filled deep blue eyes, and saw the man who would forgive anything just because he had love in his heart and a soul that cried out for those in need. "It's what I love about you the most," he said. "Your ability to forgive."

They looked at each other, silently communicating what couldn't be said with words.

"No soapy scenes, Blondie."

Both men laughed.

"Now come on and get ready," Hutch said, coming to his feet. "Dobey gave us a week off. Then we're back on duty."

Starsky laughed. "Hey, maybe we can get a game of ping-pong in while they're painting the office. Think Dobey will complain?"

"Probably send us both packing."

Starsky stood up and opened the bag, taking out the shirt and pants. "Hutch, where's my underwear?"

"Whops."

"Whops. What whops. Hutch, you better not expect me to go out there…"

"Sorry, buddy."

Starsky sighed. Then his eyes lit up. "Don't worry about it, Blondie. I forgive ya."

Hutch looked at his friend, feeling an overwhelming sense of love. They'd visited hell once again and came back in one piece.

**Six months later:**

The middle-aged woman pushed the mop bucket down the hall. She was about fifty with graying hair and a plump figure. She'd been working all day so she was tired, looking forward to getting home and maybe picking up carry-out on the way.

But right now she had at least one more room to do. If she were lucky, it wouldn't take long. She would make a point of cleaning only the parts that were visible.

She opened the door to the office, pushing the mop bucket inside, and turning on the light. She got to work quickly, mopping the visible spots, dusting the entire room. Then she got out a can of Lysol spray and sanitized the area. She was curious so she opened a few file cabinets and took out a file. This she sat on the desk and put a match to it. She pushed the ashes into a wastebasket and took a deep breath, inhaling the wonderful burning scent.

She was sweating now and desperate to put something in her sizable stomach. Her stomach growled loudly as she made her way to the door. She turned once she reached it, looking at the man, still leaning over his notes. She'd done a good job of cleaning up. She didn't even need help.

Closing the door, she put a spring in her step and walked down the deserted hall. At the end of it, stood a large man with bulging biceps and a gun over his left hip. She spoke to him, showing her badge. But he didn't look at it, just motioned her through. She didn't bother to move the mop bucket. Nothing went beyond the gate, not even soapy bloody water.

"Goodnight," she called out, but he didn't answer. She was merely a cleaning lady to him, inconsequential in the whole scheme of things. Few looked at those who cleaned mental institutions for a living. But if he had, he may have noticed the smooth unlined face, the obvious grey wig, and the spectacular green eyes. And if he saw her in fifteen minutes, he would have been struck by her cascading red hair. Of course, in fifteen minuets the man would probably head to the office she just left. If he did, he would see a clean room and a very dead Dr. Melford. If he checked further, he would go to the utility room and find a plump woman, her head still covered with the wig cap, blood seeping through. He wouldn't find prints, however, no one ever did, because she was never there.

**Fin**

**Authors Notes:**

**The character of Kira was in the episode **_**Starsky Vs. Hutch.**_

**The characters of Dr. Melford and Helen were in the episode titled Lady**_** Blue**_**.**

**Curare is a real South American plant used to induce paralysis.**

**The original characters of Susan, Jenny and Johnny are wholly my creation; Starsky and Hutch are unfortunately not.**


End file.
